iiiy  i    I 

\M\'    IMP m't!  i|  iMto:  ! 
illililHlSll'li '11 


Frances  H.  Skinner, 


IDA   NORMAN. 


JET 


IDA   NORMAN; 


OR, 


TRIALS    AND    THEIR    USES. 


BY   MRS.   LINCOLN   PHELPS, 

PBINCIPAL  OF  PATAPSCO  INSTITUTE: 


AUTHOR  OP  "LINCOLN'S  BOTANY,"  "PHELPS'  NATURAL  PHILOSO- 
PHY," "CHEMISTRY,"  &c.,  "FIRESIDE  FRIEND,"  «kc. 


BALTIMORE: 
GUSHING    &    BROTHER. 

1848. 


ENTERED,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S43, 

BY  GUSHING  &  BROTHER, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office,  of  the  District  Court  of  Maryland. 


JOHS    D.    TOY,    PRINTER. 


DEDICATE  D. 

BY  THE    AUTHOR, 


TO     HER    PUPILS, 


WHEREVER    THEY    MAY    BE, 


AND     IN     WHATEVER     CONDITION     OF     LIFE: 


IX   THE   HOPE   OF   A   HAPPY   MEETING, 


HEREAFTER. 


PREFACE. 


A  novel  by  one  who  professes  to  educate  the  young 
on  principles  of  reason  and  piety,  may  occasion  some 
surprise.  But  the  "Great  Teacher"  taught  by  para- 
bles, thereby  sanctioning  the  use  of  fiction  as  an  aux- 
iliary of  truth. 

This  work  was  commenced  in  the  autumn  of  1846, 
and  read  in  parts,  weekly,  to  the  author's  pupils,  with 
the  design  of  imparting  moral  instruction  under  a  form 
more  interesting  to  the  young  than  that  of  didactic 
essays.  The  lively  interest  manifested  by  the  audi- 
tors during  the  progress  of  the  work,  was  doubtless, 
in  a  degree,  the  result  of  their  partial  affection  for  the 
author.  Similar  feelings  prompted  the  request,  in 
compliance  with  which,  Ida  Norman  is  now  offered  to 
the  public,  where  a  more  severe  scrutiny  may  await 
her  than  she  met  with  in  the  Halls  of  Patapsco. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  interest  of  the 
work,  the  author  is  happy  in  the  belief  that  it  will  be, 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

at  least,  a  safe  companion  for  the  young,  encouraging 
no  morbid  sensibilities  or  sickly  fancies,  and  pervert- 
ing no  principles  of  morality ;  but  that  its  tendency,  so 
far  as  it  may  have  any  influence,  will  be  found  bene- 
ficial to  individual  virtue  and  happiness,  and  the  true 
interests  of  society. 

PATAPSCO  INSTITUTE,  JAN.  1848. 


IDA    NORMAN. 


CHAPTER    I. 

A   DOMESTIC    SCENE — A  POLITICIAN'S    PRIVATE    LEVEE. 

THE  shutters  were  closed,  and  the  rich  damask  curtains 
in  ample  folds,  draperied  the  windows  of  the  splendid  saloon 
of  a  marble  mansion,  situated  in  the  most  fashionable  part  of 
the  city  of  New  York.  A  lady  of  delicate  appearance,  and 
seemingly  of  middle  age,  reclined  on  a  couch  of  crimson  vel- 
vet, while  near  her,  in  thoughtful  mood,  leaning  on  a  table 
of  Italian  marble,  sat  a  gentleman,  apparently  some  years 
older.  At  a  piano,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  apartment,  a 
young  girl  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  music  book,  oc- 
casionally trying  some  notes  of  a  piece,  or  carelessly  hum- 
ming the  air  of  a  song. 

"  I  wish,  dear  Ida,"  said  a  youth,  who  entered  the  saloon 
by  an  open  door  in  a  distant  part  of  the  room  and  advanced 
toward  the  piano,  "  you  would  either  sing  or  let  it  alone,  it 
is  so  annoying  to  hear  a  person  humming  in  that  way." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Louis,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  do  not  thank  you 
for  dictating  to  me ; — if  papa  and  mama  are  satisfied  with 
me,  it  is  no  concern  of  mine  what  you  think." 

"Come  here,  my  children,"  said  the  lady,  in  a  gentle 
voice,  "  I  would  speak  with  you."     They  advanced,  and 
obeying  a  sign  from  their  mother,  seated  themselves  on  a 
low  divan  by  her  side. 
2 


14  IDA    NORMAN. 

She  took  a  hand  of  each,  and,  for  some  moments,  seemed 
struggling  with  emotions  too  powerful  for  expression.  At 
length  she  said,  "  Louis  and  Ida,  how  often  have  I  spoken 
to  you  of  the  pain  it  gives  me  to  hear  you  speak  unkindly 
to  each  other — how  often  have  J  warned  you  that  the  time 
might  come  when  you  would  be  left  alone  iu  the  world, 
with  few  to  care  for  you  or  sympathize  in  your  sorrows;  and 
now  that  we  are  so  soon  to  be  separated — our  family  circle 
broken  up  for  years,  perhaps  forever,  can  you  permit,  for 
a  moment,  any  feelings,  but  those  of  love  and  tenderness  to- 
wards each  other,  to  influence  you  ?"  Louis  seized  his 
mother's  hand,  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  then  throwing  his  arms 
around  his  sister's  neck,  both  sobbed,  and  comforted  the 
mother's  heart  by  their  unfeigned  demonstrations  of  regret 
for  the  past,  and  good  resolutions  for  the  future.  The  stern 
father,  whose  thoughts  had  been  wandering  amid  the  mazes 
of  political  intrigues,  was  struck  by  the  tender  scene,  and 
laying  upon  the  table  the  scroll  of  papers  which  he  had  held 
idly  in  his  hand,  approached  the  interesting  group. 

"Here,"  said  he,  extending  his  arms  and  drawing  the 
three  within  his  embrace,  "  are  my  treasures — all  that  this 
world  can  give  me  I  thus  clasp."  There  was  a  pause;  it 
was  one  of  those  moments  in  which  the  heart  triumphs, — 
such  as  in  this  life  '  are  few  and  far  between,'  and  such  as, 
unhappily  for  this  family,  were  seldom  witnessed  within  its 
circle. 

A  loud  ringing  at  the  street  door  broke  the  spell,  and  re- 
minded the  father  that  this  was  the  hour  in  which  he  was 
to  receive  a  committee,  appointed  to  confer  with  him  on 
political  affairs  of  moment.  A  cloud  overspread  his  features : 
he  arose  and  hastily  leaving  the  room  repaired  to  his  private 
reception  room  to  meet  his  expected  visitors. 

Mrs.  Norman  sighed  as  her  husband  closed  the  door,  and 
for  some  minutes  seemed  absorbed  in  reverie,  from  which 
she  was  aroused  by  her  son.  "  Mother,"  said  Louis,  "  it 


IDA    NORMAN.  15 

seems  to  me  wrong  for  my  father  to  accept  this  foreign  ap- 
pointment, to  go  abroad  to  a  distant  country,  giving  up  our 
home  and  its  comforts,  and  leaving  his  children  among 
strangers.  But  I  would  not  mind  for  myself.  I  am  a  boy 
and  can  take  care  of  myself  any  where;  but  for  you  and  Ida 
I  am  anxious ;  especially  for  you,  my  dear  mother,  who  are 
so  delicate  and  so  little  able  to  endure  the  fatigues  of  travel- 
ing and  the  privations  you  must  suffer.  How  hard  it  will 
be,  when  you  are  feeble  and  sick,  to  have  none  of  the  atten- 
tions you  are  accustomed  to  at  home."  Mrs.  Norman  took 
the  hand  of  her  son  in  hers  and  looked  tenderly  upon  him ; 
his  words  were  but  the  echo  of  her  own  sad  thoughts,  and 
her  full  heart  found  relief  in  tears.  "  I  feel,  indeed,  the  force 
of  your  remarks,  Louis,"  said  she,  "  but  I  should  be  un- 
worthy to  be  the  wife  of  a  distinguished  statesman,  were  I 
to  object  to  his  serving  his  country  in  a  way  most  befitting 
his  talents.  I  have  indeed,  been  ambitious  of  this  honor ; 
but  now  that  the  trial  is  near,  I  shrink  from  the  sacrifices  to 
be  made,  and  would  gladly  change  places  with  the  most 
humble  of  our  citizen's  wives  who  can  quietly  remain  in 
the  bosom  of  her  family,  urged  from  them  by  no  call  of  duty. 
But  if  I  stay  with  my  children  I  must  be  separated  from  my 
husband,  if  I  go  with  him,  I  must  leave  you;  either  alterna- 
tive is  painful; — besides,  I  am  not  fitted  by  education  or 
physical  strength  for  courts  and  the  fatigues  of  state  ceremo- 
nies. I  can  speak  no  foreign  language ;  I  was  never  fond  of 
books,  and  now  am  too  far  advanced  in  life  to  begin  to  study. 
Alas !  why  have  I  so  eagerly  desired  honors  which  demand 
the  sacrifice  of  all  domestic  enjoyments !"  Ida  pressed  her 
mother's  hand,  deeply  affected  by  this  unaccustomed  self- 
abasement  of  one  usually  reserved,  and  often  haughty  in 
manner. 

u  Mama,"  said  she,  affecting  cheerfulness,  "  why  trouble 
yourself  about  that  which  we  cannot  now  help ;  you  will 
see  so  many  pretty  things  abroad,  and  the  time  will  soon 


16  IDA   NORMAN. 

pass  away,  and  then  we  shall  be  all  together  again.  You 
could  soon  learn  French ;  suppose  you  begin  with  a  verb  to- 
morrow, and  let  me  be  your  teacher ; — and  when  you  are 
away,  you  will  write  to  us  very  often ;  and  when  you  come 
back,  we  shall  all  be  so  happy,  and  Louis  and  I  will  never 
quarrel  any  more ;  will  we,  Louis !"  Louis  kissed  his  sister's 
cheek  and  smiled,  though  the  tear  drop  glistened  in  his  eye. 
Mrs.  Norman  then  desired  her  children  to  retire,  telling 
them  she  felt  the  need  of  rest ;  she  had  much  to  do  on  the 
morrow,  particularly  in  directing  such  preparation  of  cloth- 
ing for  them  as  was  necessary,  in  view  of  their  being  placed 
at  school  for  several  years.  The  idea  of  going  to  school 
among  strangers  was  not  pleasant  to  Ida ;  but  she  would  not 
at  that  time,  add  to  the  distress  of  her  mother  by  any  ex- 
pression of  her  feelings.  Louis  was  a  manly  boy,  he  felt 
himself  called  on  to  show  his  resolution,  and  this  inspired 
him  with  courage.  We  are  sorry  to  say,  that  Mrs.  Norman 
on  this  interesting  occasion,  sent  her  children  to  their  nightly 
repose  without  an  evening  hymn  or  prayer,  and  that  she  had 
not  even  taught  them  to  worship  their  Creator  in  secret. 
The  Normans  were  a  prayerless  family,  devoted  to  the 
world,  its  pomps  and  vanities.  Political  ambition  was  the 
ruling  passion  of  Mr.  Norman,  while  his  less  gifted  wife 
sought  for  distinction  in  the  charmed  circle  of  fashion.  He 
had  been  a  devoted  partizan  in  politics,  and  a  new  career  of 
distinction  now  opened  before  him.  Possibly  he  had  his 
reason  for  wishing  to  leave  his  country,  and  fortune  had  fa- 
vored his  views,  in  giving  him  a  foreign  appointment.  En- 
dowed with  talents  of  a  high  order,  and  gifted  with  the  power 
of  eloquence,  he  had  exercised  those  talents  and  wielded 
this  power  for  the  advancement  of  his  own  private  interests, 
rather  than  for  the  good  of  his  country.  Naturally  noble 
and  ingenious,  he  had  gradually  sunk  the  patriot  in  the  baser 
aspirations  of  the  partizan  and  politician,  until,  losing  his 
own  self-respect,  he  had  ceased  to  have  confidence  in  others. 


IDA    NORMAN.  17 

In  the  bitterness  of  his  own  spirit,  while  he  acknowledged 
to  himself,  that  he  deceived  others,  he  felt  that  he  was  but 
the  tool  of  those  who  had  been  even  more  successful  than 
himself  in  the  game  of  political  intrigue. 

The  secret  meeting  in  Mr.  Norman's  private  apartment 
was  protracted  to  a  late  hour.  Mrs.  Norman's  nerves  were 
too  excitable  to  allow  her  to  sleep,  for  though  ignorant  of 
what  was  going  on,  she  was  troubled  and  alarmed ; — some 
new  movement  of  the  political  wheel  might  possibly  throw 
her  husband  back  into  a  private  station ;  and  with  an  in- 
consistency common  to  human  nature,  she  now  feared,  as 
the  greatest  of  evils,  the  loss  of  that  appointment  on  a  fo- 
reign embassy,  which  she  had  just  regarded  as  involving  so 
much  distress,  and  as  unfavorable  to  the  true  interests  and 
happiness  of  her  family. 

Mr.  Norman,  long  after  midnight,  laid  an  aching  head 
upon  his  pillow, — his  political  friends  had  presented  for 
his  consideration  sundry  bonds  which  he  had  given  to  sup- 
ply the  means  of  promoting  the  success  of  the  party ;  and 
some  had  hinted  their  suspicions  that  his  accounts  with  the 
National  Government,  in  late  monied  transactions,  were  by 
no  means  favorable  for  his  endorsers.  Mr.  Norman  had 
his  reasons  for  determining  to  make  the  most  of  present 
advantages,  and  to  hasten  preparations  for  his  departure 
from  the  country. 


18  IDA    NORMAN. 

CHAPTER    II. 

SELECTION    OF    SCHOOLS. 

MR.  NORMAN  had  too  much  to  do  with  State  affairs,  and 
with  the  Cabinet  at  Washington,  to  think  much  about  the 
selection  of  schools  for  his  son  and  daughter,  which  con- 
cern he  left  chiefly  to  his  wife,  who,  feeling  that  she  was 
incompetent  to  judge  on  this  subject,  allowed  herself  to  be 
governed  by  chance.  Ida,  she  said,  must  certainly  go  to 
the  most  fashionable  school ;  and  she  was  about  to  decide 
in  favor  of  one  of  specious  pretensions,  when  she  received 
a  visit  from  her  former  school  companion  and  friend,  Mrs. 
Selby,  a  lady  no  less  distinguished  for  good  sense  than  for 
elegant  manners.  This  lady,  feeling  a  deep  interest  in  Ida 
Norman,  who  had  occasionally  been  a  companion  of  her 
daughter,  was  very  desirous  that  she  should  be  placed  in 
a  situation  favorable  to  the  improvement  of  her  character, 
as  well  as  her  progress  in  knowledge  and  accomplishments. 

"  In  leaving  your  country,  Mrs.  Norman,  what  do  you 
intend  to  do  with  your  daughter.  You  will  not,  I  pre- 
sume," said  Mrs.  Selby,  "  take  her  with  you  ?" 

Mrs.  Norman  informed  her  friend  that  she  should  place 
Ida  at  school,  and  that  feeling  at  this  time,  as  a  great  defect 
in  her  own  education,  the  want  of  a  knowledge  of  the 
French  language,  she  had  determined  to  select  for  her 
daughter  a  French  school. 

"  But,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Selby,  "  have  you  re- 
flected that  in  giving  your  daughter  an  almost  entire  French 
education,  you  make  her  superficial  as  an  English  scholar. 
You  do  not,  I  hope,  expect  to  become  French  in  your 
feelings  and  tastes,  or  wish  to  bring  up  your  children  to 
forget  their  native  language.  You  know  Mrs.  Vaughn  has 


IDA   NORMAN.  19 

so  educated  her  children,  which  as  she  speaks  French  is 
not  so  bad  for  herself,  but  her  good  mother  is  greatly 
embarrassed  for  she  cannot  converse  with  her  grandchildren 
any  more  than  if  they  were  Chinese ; — and  what  renders  the 
case  more  distressing,  is  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Vaughn  is  an 
only  child,  and  her  children  are  peculiarly  dear  to  their 
aged  grandmother.  But  it  was  her  mania  to  bring  up  her 
daughter  to  be  a  French  lady,  and  she  now  sees  the  ridicu- 
lous, and  sad  effects.  Mrs.  Vaughn  dislikes  American  so- 
ciety, our  language,  government  and  manners.  Any  mous- 
tached  foreigner,  with  the  slightest  introduction,  or  scarcely 
any  introduction  at  all,  is  well  received  at  her  soirees, 
where  it  is  considered  vulgar  to  speak  our  native  language, 
while  Americans,  except  such  few  as  occupy  very  distin- 
guished positions,  or  can  speak  French,  are  made  to  feel 
that  they  are  out  of  place.  This  is  certainly  ridiculous. 
The  French,  themselves  ridicule  the  folly  which  leads  pa- 
rents to  sacrifice  so  much  to  the  attainment  of  a  foreign 
language.  You,  indeed,  my  dear  Mrs.  Norman,  are  to  ap- 
pear at  a  foreign  court,  as  the  wife  of  an  American  minis- 
ter, but  this  is  an  event  not  to  be  generally  expected ;  while 
every  American  woman,  in  the  higher  circles,  is  expected  to 
possess  a  knowledge  of  English  grammar,  English  litera- 
ture, and  to  be  familiar  with  many  branches  of  study,  which 
can  be  pursued  to  greatest  advantage  through  the  medium 
of  her  native  language.  To  adopt  a  foreign  tongue  as  a 
medium  to  obtain  knowledge,  is  like  darkening  vision  by 
opaque  glasses,  when  we  have  perfect  eye-sight." 

"  Indeed,  Mrs.  Selby,  I  confess  your  arguments  have 
weight,  besides  it  might  not  seem  patriotic  in  us  to  give 
our  children  an  exclusively  French  education.  Mr.  Nor- 
man's public  station  renders  it  very  important  that  we 
should  make  ourselves  popular,  at  least  with  our  own 
party." 

Mrs.  Selby  had  not  thought  of  bringing  forward  an  argu- 


20  IDA   NORMAN. 

ment  like  this  to  a  mother,  when  deliberating  upon  the 
course  of  education  for  her  child ;  but  she  prudently  for- 
bore the  expression  of  any  surprise,  thereby  seeming  to  as- 
sent to  the  truth  of  Mrs.  Norman's  proposition. 

Mrs.  Selby  left  with  Mrs.  Norman,  for  her  examination, 
a  prospectus  of  Mrs.  Newton's  school,  at  Science  Hall, 
promising  to  call  in  a  few  days  and  converse  with  her 
friend  farther  on  the  choice  of  a  school  for  her  daughter. 
Louis  was  to  be  sent  to  an  institution  for  boys,  distinguished 
for  discipline  and  high  grade  of  scholarship,  but  less  for 
this,  than  because  some  of  the  leading  politicians  of  the 
party  which  had  elevated  Mr.  Norman,  had  given  it  their 
patronage. 

All  was  now  bustle  and  confusion  at  the  dwelling  of  Mr. 
Norman;  furniture  was  to  be  packed  away — preparations 
were  to  be  made  for  a  sea  voyage,  and  a  long  residence 
abroad.  The  weak  nerves  of  Mrs.  Norman  received  many 
shocks  from  the  breaking  of  mirrors  and  chandeliers,  and 
disappointments  from  mechanics,  dress-maker  and  seam- 
stresses. She  often  called  on  Ida  to  try  to  do  something 
about  her  own  aflairs ;  but  Ida  had  no  idea  of  industry,  she 
had  been  brought  up  to  consider  it  as  a  vulgar  quality 
necessary  only  for  such  as  work  for  a  living.  So  amidst  all 
the  confusion  around  her,  she  continued  to  spend  her  time 
in  looking  listlessly  out  of  the  window,  seeing  the  new 
bonnets  and  dresses  which  appeared  in  the  streets,  lounging 
on  a  sofa  with  a  story-book  in  her  hand,  or  idly  thrumming 
over  her  music.  She  was  sorry  when  she  saw  her  mother 
unhappy  and  dispirited ;  her  heart  reproached  her,  and  she 
made  great  professions  of  what  she  was  going  to  do  on 
the  morrow. 


IDA    NORMAN.  21 

CHAPTER    III. 

TABLE    TALK. 

THE  morning  sun  was  bright,  and  shone  forth  beautifully 
upon  Broadway,  revealing  a  great  moving  panorama;  the 
busy  and  idle,  the  anxious  and  thoughtless,  the  gay  and 
miserable  thronging  a  thoroughfare  which  may  be  consi- 
dered as  the  grand  artery  of  the  London  of  America. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Norman,  at  the  fashionable  hour  of  eleven 
o'clock,  were  still  seated  at  their  breakfast  table.  "And  so 
my  dear,"  said  the  gentleman,  "you  have  concluded  to 
place  Ida  with  Mrs.  Newton  at  Science  Hall;  you  have 
made  a  good  choice,  I  am  delighted  with  the  judgment  you 
have  displayed." 

"I  claim  no  merit,  as  Mrs.  Selby  dissuaded  me  from 
sending  her  to  Madame  de  la  Trappe,  and  recommended 
this  school  to  me.  But  what  do  you  know  about  Mrs. 
Newton's  school,  Mr.  Norman  ?" 

"Nothing  of  her  school,  Eliza,  but  much  of  her;  you 
know  she  was  once  Amelia  Walsingham,"  said  Mr.  Norman, 
slightly  coloring  as  he  spoke. 

"Is  it  possible,"  replied  Mrs.  Norman,  "that  she  now 
keeps  a  school  ?  I  have  lost  sight  of  her  for  years — I  re- 
collect you  was  a  law  student  in  her  father's  office,  and  I 
once  heard  that  you  was  an  admirer  of  hers;  but  I  hope 
while  you  took  lessons  in  law  from  the  father,  you  did  not 
receive  those  of  a  more  interesting  nature  of  the  daughter; 
I  trust  there  was  nothing  in  the  report,  for  I  would  not 
place  Ida  with  a  neglected  flame  of  her  father,  lest  she 
might  be  punished  for  his  indifference." 

"Make  yourself  easy  on  that  point,  Eliza,  Mrs.  Newton 
is  too  noble  in  disposition  to  act  an  unworthy  part  by  our 


22  IDA    NORMAN. 

child,  even  were  your  suggestions  founded  in  reality:  but 
/  never  neglected  her,  had  I  committed  no  other  fault  than 
that,  my  life  might  have  been  a  very  different  one.  I  might 
have  been  less  distinguished,  but  more  happy;  the  affections 
of  the  heart  developed  in  their  full  growth  and  activity, 
might  have  taken  something  from  my  intellectual  energies; — 
but  we  mark  not  out  our  own  destiny  in  life,  we  carve  not 
our  own  fortunes, 

"  There's  a  Divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  as  we  will." 

"You  talk  in  enigmas,  Mr.  Norman,  I  do  not  understand 
you." 

"It  is,  perhaps,  well,  Eliza,  that  you  should  not  under- 
stand fully  what  in  my  weakness  I  have  uttered ;  but  I  will 
frankly  own  that  there  was  a  time  when  Amelia  Walsing- 
ham  was  dear  to  me,  and  all  my  future  plans  in  life  referred 
to  her; — it  was  for  her  sake,  that  I  studied  and  toiled  to 
gain  that  knowledge  in  my  profession,  which  was  to  give 
me  fame  and  a  high  standing  among  men.  But  the  illusion 
vanished;  my  air  built  castle  disappeared  and  left  me  to 
brave  the  storms  of  life,  with  a  heart  crushed  and  blighted 
with  disappointment." 

"And  yet  you  would  wish  this  woman  to  educate  your 
child;  she  who  deceived  you,  who  trampled  your  affections 
beneath  her  feet ; — my  daughter  shall  never  be  entrusted  to 
her,  I  have  too  much  pride  for  that,  if  I  had  not  to  marry 
one  who,  when  even  a  suitor  for  my  hand,  scarcely  pro- 
fessed to  love  me." 

My  dear  Eliza,  you  wrong  Mrs.  Newton,  you  would 
wrong  your  child  by  this  spirit.  She  never  deceived  me, 
she  was  truth  and  candor  itself— but  I, — yes,  I  must  confess 
my  guilt.  I  deceived  her  in  respect  to  my  religious  princi- 
ples; she  was  a  Christian,  I  an  unbeliever;  she  believed  in 
self-denial,  1  in  self-gratification ;  she  would  be  virtuous  for 


IDA    NORMAN.  23 

the  love  of  virtue,  I  for  the  esteem  of  men ; — I  concealed 
from  her  my  real  sentiments ;  I  went  with  her  to  the  house 
of  worship,  and  gave  a  decent  attention,  but  my  homage 
was  not  to  the  most  High,  it  was  to  the  idol  I  had  enshrined 
within  my  heart.  She  was  deceived,  for  I  appeared,  when 
with  her,  under  false  colours.  I  believed,  that  under  her 
influence,  I  should  ever  be  kept  from  disgraceful  acts — but 
alas,  I  was  made  to  feel,  in  all  its  bitterness,  the  weakness 
of  human  nature  unsupported  by  religious  principle.  I  com- 
mitted an  act  which  seemed  to  me,  at  the  time,  excusable, 
and  which  I  thought  would  never  be  exposed.  I  wanted 
money,  my  father  refused  to  supply  me,  and  with  a  forged 
draft,  I  obtained  money  from  his  banker.  My  father  would 
have  screened  me,  but  Judge  Walsingham  discovered  the 
fraud,  and  reported  it  to  Amelia ;  1  received  from  her  a  note 
with  these  words,  which  are  burned  as  with  a  hot  iron  upon 
the  tablets  of  my  memory.  "  I  pity  you,  but  the  man  who 
can  do  a  dishonest  act,  can  never  be  the  husband  of  Amelia 
Walsingham.  We  part  far  ever." 

"  How  ridiculous,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  "  had  you  not  a 
right  to  your  father's  money  ?  you  were  his  only  son,  and 
would  inherit  all  he  should  leave,  you  were  only  antici- 
pating a  little." 

"So  I  reasoned,  but  not  so  judged  Miss  Walsingham,  and 
from  that  day  we  have  never  met.  I  was  too  proud  to  sue 
for  forgiveness,  and  I  knew  too  well,  her  firmness  in  all  that 
concerned  moral  actions  to  hope  for  success,  should  I  at- 
tempt to  reinstate  myself  in  her  favor." 

"  Well,  and  so  she  married  an  obscure  parson,  with  no 
estate  but  his  gown  and  surplice;  while  James  Livingston 
Norman,  became  the  husband  of  Eliza  Tudor,  who  brought 
him  an  immense  fortune,  and  for  his  sake,  rejected  the  most 
brilliant  offers  ; — (and  Mrs.  Norman  assumed  a  lofty  air,)  I 
believe  Miss  Walsingham  was  poor." 

Mr.  Norman,  abstracted,  seemed  unconscious  of  the  re- 


24  IDA   NORMAN. 

mark,  and  his  wife  continued,  "I  shall  not  send  Ida  to 
Mrs.  Newton's  school,  our  conversation  this  morning  has 
changed  my  purpose." 

Mr.  Norman  started  from  his  reverie,  "  and  what,  madam, 
has  this  to  do  with  the  welfare  of  our  child  ?  I  have  told  you 
that  Mrs.  Newton  was  scrupulous  and  severe  in  her  ideas 
of  virtue ;  should  not  this  inspire  you  with  confidence  in  her. 
If  she  ever  had  a  tender  regard  for  the  father,  she  may  feel 
the  greater  interest  in  the  child,  and  God  only  knows," 
continued  he  with  deep  earnestness, "  what  events  may  take 
place  before  our  return  to  America,  or  whether  we  may 
ever  return ;  Ida  may  be  left  to  the  cold  charities  of  the 
world ;  and  who  among  those  who  now  selfishly  pay  court 
to  the  father,  would  care  for  and  protect  the  orphan  ?" 

"But  our  children,  Mr.  Norman,  are  born  to  fortune; 
they  will  be  dependent  on  no  one,  and  last  of  all,  I  trust  my 
proud  Ida  will  never  need  the  kindness  or  sympathy  of  Mrs. 
Newton." 

"  I  hope  she  will  never  want  for  any  thing,"  replied  Mr. 
Norman  somewhat  impatiently,  "but  I  wish  you  to  make 
arrangements  to  place  her  with  Mrs.  Newton,  whose  school 
I  did  not  think  of,  till  you  suggested  it,  but  which  I  de- 
cidedly approve." 

Mr.  Norman's  decided  opinion,  his  lady  well  knew  was 
not  to  be  disputed,  and  she  changed  the  subject,  hoping  to 
gain,  by  her  acquiescence  in  her  husband's  wishes,  certain 
indulgences  that  he  might  otherwise  have  been  unwilling 
to  grant. 

"  Since  it  is  decided,  that  Ida  shall  go  to  Mrs .  Newton's 
school,  we  must  prepare  her  to  make  a  suitable  appearance 
among  the  very  genteel  associates  she  will  there  meet  with. 
I  intend  going  out  to  shop  this  morning  and  shall  want 
money." 

"The  wardrobe  of  a  school  girl  cannot  cost  much,"  said 
Mr.  Norman,  "  what  sum  shall  you  need  ?" 


IDA    NORMAN.  25 

« Oh,  as  to  that,  you  must  consider  that  the  child  is  to 
be  left  for  years,  and  that  when  we  return  she  will  be  quite 
a  young  lady.  She  will  need  a  watch,  bracelets,  and  other 
expensive  articles;  as  well  as  a  variety  of  dresses,  silk, 
cashmere,  merino  and  cambric; — and  I  am  going  to  that 
artist  near  the  Park  who  paints  so  beautifully,  to  have  the 
children  sit  for  their  portraits ;  he  only  charges  two  thou- 
sand dollars  for  a  family  piece,  and  I  shall  want  you,  my 
dear,  to  find  time  to  sit  to  him.  I  have  promised  to  give 
him  a  sitting  to-morrow." 

"  How  much  money  will  serve  you  for  the  shopping  to- 
day ?  If  you  get  that  extravagant  picture  painted,  I  trust 
the  artist  will  wait  for  his  pay  until  it  is  finished." 

"  I  think  a  thousand  or  two  dollars  to-day,  will  do,  but  if 
you  have  more  to  spare,  I  dare  say  I  can  find  ways  enough 
to  spend  it." 

"  Send  to  my  room  in  half  an  hour,  and  you  shall  have 
checks  for  a  thousand  dollars,  it  is  absolutely  all  1  have  at 
command  to-day.  I  shall  receive  to-morrow,  a  treasury 
draft  from  government,  for  my  outfit  as  a  foreign  minister." 

"  Why  do  you  speak  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  "  when 
you  have  hundreds  of  thousands  in  bank  stock ;  and  real 
estate  in  the  city,  the  income  from  which  might  make  a 
prince  rich  ?" 

Mr.  Norman  did  not  answer,  and  the  lady,  after  a  minute's 
pause,  arose  and  pulled  the  bell  cord ;  a  servant  appeared. 
"Tell  Thomas  to  have  the  coach  at  the  door  in  an  hour's 
time,  and  ask  Mrs.  Andrews  to  come  here  with  Miss  Ida." 

Mr.  Norman  rose  from  the  breakfast  table,  and  left  the 
room.  Mrs.  Norman  played  with  her  spoon,  looked 
thoughtful,  and  at  length  grew  impatient.  She  rung  the  bell 
again,  and  the  same  servant  entered.  "Please,  madam,  Mrs. 
Andrews  says,  Miss  Ida  won't  get  up,  'cause  she  says,  it  is 
too  early." 

"Tell  Mrs.  Andrews  to  say  to  Miss  Ida,  that  if  she  wishes 
3 


26  IDA    NORMAN. 

to  go  shopping  with  me,  she  must  be  ready  before  one 
o'clock ;— and  tell  Master  Louis,  make  haste  and  come  to 
his  breakfast." 

"  Here  I  am,  mother,"  said  Louis,  "  I  have  been  out  in 
the  garden  looking  at  the  buds  on  the  lilac  shrubs,  they  are 
just  beginning  to  open,  and  the  crocusses  and  snow-drops 
are  in  blossom ;  here  are  some  I  plucked  to  show  you ; — 
and  the  spring  birds  have  come  back ;  I  left  a  robin  singing 
sweetly  on  a  branch  of  one  of  the  old  elms  in  the  avenue. 
But,  mother,  how  can  you  let  Ida  remain  in  bed  so  long. 
1  just  heard  Kitty  tell  Susan,  that  Mrs.  Andrews  says  she 
has  been  trying  for  two  hours  to  make  her  get  up.  Well, 
it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  her  to  be  at  a  school,  where  she 
will  be  obliged  to  get  up  by  sun-rise.  Frank  Selby  says 
Julia  always  gets  up  before  six  o'clock  when  at  home, 
because  she  is  accustomed  to  rise  so  early  at  school.  For 
my  part,  I  wish  to  be  under  strict  rules ;  I  know  it  is  best 
for  me,  and  I  choose  to  go  where  I  shall  be  made  to  do  my 
duty." 

"  That  is  a  very  good  idea,  Louis,"  said  his  mother, " I 
hope  you  will  always  try  to  do  right,  and  become  as  dis- 
tinguished in  the  world  as  your  father." 

"Mother,"  said  Louis,  "what  is  this  distinction  in  the 
world  worth  ?  it  does  not  make  father  happy ;  it  seems  to  me 
I  never  saw  him  so  uneasy  and  perplexed  as  since  he  has 
become  a  great  man  ; — and  he  has  never  a  moment  to  spend 
with  us.  ft  am  thinking  it  would  be  better  to  be  less  distin- 
guished, and  more  happy .'^ 

Miss  Ida  now  made  her  appearance,  rubbing  her  eyes ; 
the  servants  in  attendance  brought  in  the  hot  breakfast ;  and 
the  two  children  sat  at  the  table  and  took  their  coflee  out 
of  porcelain  cups  of  the  richest  patterns,  while  the  massive 
silver  urn  and  other  articles  of  the  most  expensive  kind,  be- 
spoke luxury  and  taste. 


IDA    NORMAN.  27 

CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    FASHIONABLE    MOTHER    SHOPPING. 

MRS.  NORMAN'S  splendid  equipage  with  suitable  ap- 
pointment of  liveried  servants,  was  at  the  door  precisely  at 
the  time  ordered ;  and  that  lady,  adorned  in  the  height  of 
extravagance  and  fashion,  accompanied  by  her  young  daugh- 
ter, scarcely  less  dressed,  took  her  seat  in  the  luxurious 
carriage.  As  the  elegant  mother  and  the  exquisite  young 
lady  entered  shop  after  shop,  they  created  no  small  sensa- 
tion. Every  clerk  was  at  their  service,  and  most  obsequi- 
ous bows  followed  and  preceded  their  movements.  Splen- 
did silks,  rich  laces  and  expensive  embroidered  handker- 
chiefs were  bought  for  Ida  to  take  to  school ;  crape  and 
cashmere  shawls  of  great  value  were  purchased  for  her 
use.  Whatever  was  rich  and  pretty  she  wanted,  and  what- 
ever she  wanted  her  mother  bought  for  her.  Gloves  in, 
great  quantities  and  ornamented  in  Parisian  style  were  pur- 
chased ;  and  linen  of  the  finest  kind,  with  rich  lace  to  trim 
the  ruffles,  was  laid  in.  The  watch  and  chain,  with  other 
articles  of  jewelry,  assisted  much  to  lighten  the  purse  of 
Mrs.  Norman.  An  expensive  writing-desk  of  rose  wood, 
ornamented  with  embossed  gold,  was  shewn  them  at  a  va- 
riety store.  Ida  wished  for  it,  and  her  mother  thought  it 
cheap  at  seventy-five  dollars. 

k'We  will  now,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  as  they  were  getting 
into  their  carriage,  "go  to  Mrs.  Landon's,  and  leave  the 
linen  to  be  made." 

k'  That  sweet  Mrs.  Landon,  mama,  who  knit  my  zephyr 
tippet  and  polka,  and  has  sewed  so  much  for  you  ?  Oh,  I 
remember  her  and  her  lovely  daughter  about  my  own  age; 
and  Willie  Landon,  I  wonder  if  he  has  grown  much  since 


28  IDA    NORMAN. 

I  saw  him.    How  long  have  you  known  Mrs.  Landon, 
mama  r" 

"She  was,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  "a  school  companion 
of  mine,  and  in  youth  we  were  somewhat  ultimate;  but 
our  conditions  hi  life  have  since  been  so  very  different,  that 
we  have  never  met,  except  as  I  have  occasionally  gone  to 
her  for  needle-work,  which  she  is  glad  to  do  to  support 
her  family.  She  is  one  of  the  neatest  seamstresses  in  the 
city.  When  we  were  at  school  together,  she  was  always 
industrious."  Mrs.  Norman  might  have  added,  "and  she 
often  helped  me  out  with  my  lessons  when  I  could  not  get 
them."  But  this  would  have  been  humiliating. 

"  Why  have  you  never  assisted  Mrs.  Landon  in  some  way, 
mama  ?  I  think  it  would  have  been  kind  in  you  to  have 
done  so,  and  it  seems  as  if  we  might  be  so  happy  to  do  a 
great  deal  of  good,  when  we  have  plenty  of  money." 

"Why,  so  I  have  assisted  Mrs.  Landon,  in  giving  her 
work  to  do ;  she  is  too  proud  to  receive  charity." 

"  Yes,  mama,  but  then  there  are  delicate  ways  of  helping 
people  who  are  needy,  you  might  have  asked  papa  to  get  a 
situation  in  the  Navy  or  in  some  of  the  public  offices  for 
Willie,  it  has  made  me  feel  sorry  to  see  him  look  so  sad. 
He  seems  such  a  noble  boy,  as  if  he  was  made  for  some- 
thing great;  and  then,  you  might  have  done  something  to- 
wards educating  Laura,  who  I  am  sure,  looks  much  more  as 
if  born  to  be  a  lady  than  I  do." 

"It  is  not  for  you,  Ida,  to  tell  your  mother  what  she 
ought  to  have  done.  You  know  very  well  your  father 
often  finds  fault  with  what  I  expend  for  the  family,  though 
1  study  so  much  to  be  economical ;  and  what  would  he  say 
were  I  to  attempt  to  take  care  of  the  families  of  others,  or 
to  trouble  him  about  them;  and  where  am  I  to  get  money  to 
expend  hi  charity,  when  I  am  often  troubled  to  pay  my  just 
debts." 

Ida,  somewhat  puzzled  by  her  mother's  reasoning,  and 


IDA    NORMAN.  #9 

perceiving  her  somewhat  offended,  made  no  answer.  The 
carriage  stopped  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Landon's  lowly  dwell- 
ing, and  the  little  girl  and  her  mother  were  soon  seated  in 
the  neat  but  humble  parlor. 

"  I  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  "  to  have  these  pieces  of 
linen,  and  this  fine  cambric,  for  night  gowns,  made  for  my 
daughter,  as  soon  as  possible.  Mrs.  Landon,  you  will  ob- 
serve the  exquisite  fineness  of  the  linen ;  this  linen  cam- 
bric for  the  ruffling  is  the  very  finest  the  city  affords ;  and 
here  is  a  large  quantity  of  splendid  valencienes  lace  to  trim 
with.  How  soon,  Mrs.  Landon,  can  you  do  this  work  ?  My 
daughter  is  going  away  to  school,  as  soon  as  she  can  be  pre- 
pared, and  we  wish  to  see  her  settled  before  we  go  abroad. 
The  frigate  which  is  ordered  by  government  to  carry  out  my 
husband  will  be  in  the  harbor  soon,  and  of  course  there  can 
be  no  delay;  it  is  therefore  important  that  I  get  every  thing 
in  readiness  for  our  departure,  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad,  Mrs.  Norman,"  said  the  person 
addressed,  with  a  sweet  voice,  and  in  a  dignified  manner, 
"to  do  this  work,  but  I  cannot  possibly  engage  to  finish  so 
great  a  number  of  articles,  even  within  several  weeks,  or 
perhaps  months — I  have  no  one  to  assist  me  at  present." 

"  Where  is  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Landon  ?     f  thought  she 
worked  with  you  ;  it  is  very  hard  she  should  leave  you,  just 
as  she  is  old  enough  to  be  of  some  use  to  you."     M.TS,, 
Landon  blushed  deeply,  and  her  eyes  glistening  with  tears, 
mildly  answered ; — 

"  My  daughter,  madam,  is  a  most  dutiful  and  affectionate 
child ;  she  would,  if  possible,  shield  her  mother  from  all  the 
trials  and  sorrows  of  life. — You  ask  me  where  she  is :  my 
early  friend,  Mrs.  Newton,  who  has  truly  proved  herself  the 
friend  of  the  widow  and  fatherless,  has  invited  Laura  to  be- 
come a  member  of  her  family." 

"Mrs.  Newton, indeed — I  hope  Laura  has  not  gone  to  be 
a  chamber-maid  in  her  family.   I  think  you  might  do  better 
3* 


30  IDA   NORMAN. 

for  her  than  that ;  she  would,  I  dare  say,  soon  learn  the  dress 
making,  or  millinery  business."  Again  the  color  came  to  the 
cheeks  of  Mrs.  Landon,  and  she  drew  herself  up  somewhat 
proudly. — "  Mrs.  Norman,  you  wrong  Mrs.  Newton  as  much 
as  you  wound  me,  by  your  suggestion  ;  Mrs.  Newton  has 
taken  my  daughter  as  a  pupil,  to  enjoy  all  the  advantages  of 
her  school ;  and  if  successful  in  making  such  improvement 
as  we  hope,  she  may  one  day  become  a  teacher." 

"-How  glad  I  am,  dear  Mrs.  Landon,"  said  Ida,  with  emo- 
tioiij  "  to  hear  that  Laura  has  gone  to  Mrs.  Newton's.  I 
always  loved  her,  and  we  shall,  I  know,  be  very  good  friends, 
for  I  am  going  to  that  very  school." 

Mrs.  Norman  attempted  to  frown,  but  Ida  did  not,  or 
would  not  understand  her  mother's  looks.  "Pray,"  said 
Mrs.  Norman,  "how  can  Mrs.  Newton  afford  to  educate 
your  daughter  at  her  own  expense — I  suppose  she  is  not 
herself  rich." 

"  She  is  rich  in  faith  and  good  works,"  said  Mrs.  Landon. 
"  In  giving  to  the  poor,  she  considers  that  she  is  lending  to 
the  Lord."  .-V 

t;  But,  does  she  really  give  your  daughter  her  education  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Norman,  her  curiosity  getting  the  better  of  her 
politeness. 

"  We  receive  it,  for  the  present,  as  a  gift,"  said  Mrs.  Landon, 
meekly,  "  though,  I  hope  Laura  will,  hereafter,  in  some  de- 
gree, repay  her  benefactress  the  pecuniary  obligation ;  the 
debt  of  gratitude,  she  can  never  cancel,  nor  would  she,  Lhope, 
ever  wish  to  do  it ;  for  when  the  heart  is  right,  the  feeling 
of  gratitude  is  sweet." 

Mrs.  Norman,  who,  with  many  weaknesses  and  little- 
nesses, was  still  capable  of  fine  feelings,  and  had,  herself,  a 
wish  to  do  good,  only  she  could  never  see  how,  began  to 
comprehend  that  there  was  something  in  this  transaction 
which  reflected  honor  on  all  parties, — Mrs.  Landon,  in  ac- 
cepting with  trust  and  confidence,  as  Mrs.  Newton,  in  be- 


IDA   NORMAN.  31 

stowing  the  favor,  and  she  almost  wished  herself  in  Mrs. 
Newton's  place,  that  she  might  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  feeling 
herself  beneficent.  She  thought  of  Mrs.  Landon's  son,  pen- 
sive and  drooping  as  she  had  seen  him,  and  very  kindly  in- 
quired after  him. 

"  Willie,  too,  has  been  provided  for  through  the  influence 
of  Mrs.  Newton,  and  now  enjoys  the  advantages  of  a  busi- 
ness education  he  has  so  much  desired." 

"I  love  Mrs.  Newton,"  said  Ida,  "for  being  kind  to 
Willie.  Do  you  remember,  Mrs.  Landon,  once,  when  I  was 
here,  I  took  suph  a  fancy  to  his  little  kitten,  and  put  it  in 
his  cap  to  make  him  laugh,  and  how  pleased  I  was  that 
he  made  me  a  present  of  it  when  I  came  away  ?  Do  you 
think,  Mrs.  Landon,  Willie  would  know  me  now  ?" 

Mrs.  Landon  smiling,  said,  "  I  am  sure  he  would  not  for- 
get such  an  introduction  to  an  acquaintance,  especially,  as 
I  think,  kitty  scratched  his  hand  when  he  attempted  to  take 
her  out  of  his  cap." 

Mrs.  Norman  resumed  the  subject  of  her  visit.  "I  am 
sorry,  Mrs.  Landon,  you  cannot  do  this  work  as  soon  as  I 
want  it.  I  had  really  set  my  heart  upon  your  making  up 
these  articles;  you  do  every  thing  so  neatly,  and  the  materials 
are  so  nice.  I  am  unwilling  to  trust  them  to  any  one  else." 

"I  will  try,"  said  Mrs.  Landon,  "to  make  up  such  a 
quantity  of  this  under-clothing  as  your  daughter  will  need 
to  take  to  school  with  her ;  too  much  would  only  be  in  the 
way ;  and  if  I  may  presume  to  suggest,  I  would  advise  to 
make  the  articles  plain,  as  the  ruffles  will  be  rather  an  em- 
barrassment to  the  laundresses,  by  adding  to  their  work.  I 
have  heard  Mrs.  Newton  remark,  that  she  preferred  her  pu- 
pils should  have  their  clothing  so  made  as  not  to  require 
extra  labor  in  doing  up,  as,  in  a  large  family,  this  was  a 
matter  of  some  consequence." 

"Very  strange  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  "that  Mrs. 
Newton  should  attempt  to  dictate  in  such  matters.  I  should 


32  IDA    NORMAN. 

suppose  a  lady  would  be  above  looking  into  the  affairs  of  the 
laundry  or  kitchen." 

Mrs.  Landon  making  no  reply,  Mrs.  Norman  rose  to  go, 
when  Mrs.  Landon,  with  some  embarrassment  took  from 
her  secretary  a  paper,  saying  as  she  presented  it,  "  excuse 
me  madam,  for  reminding  you,  that  this  small  bill  for  sew- 
ing, still  remains  unpaid.  I  sent  it  as  you  directed  to  your 
husband,  and  he  referred  the  messenger  to  you,  but  you 
were  out  at  the  time." 

Mrs.  Norman  slightly  coloring,  carelessly  said,  "  indeed 
this  bill  ought  to  have  been  paid  long  ago ;  but  I  have  not 
absolutely  one  dollar  left,  and  for  some  of  my  purchases 
this  morning,  I  was  obliged  to  ask  credit;  but  before  we 
leave  the  country,  you  shall  certainly  be  paid,  not  only  this 
bill,  but  for  what  you  are  going  to  do." 

"  I  wished,"  said  Mrs.  Landon,  "  to  purchase  for  my 
daughter  some  calico  dresses,  and  other  clothing,  having 
sent  her  to  school  with  a  very  scanty  wardrobe." 

Ida  Norman  had  listened  with  uneasiness  to  the  dialogue; 
taking  her  mother  aside,  she  said,  "mama  it  is  not  right  that 
Mrs.  Landon  should  not  be  paid,  can  we  not  exchange  some 
of  the  things  we  have  bought  this  morning  for  what  she 
wants  to  buy  ?  There  is  that  piece  of  linen  cambric  and 
valencienes  lace,  which  we  do  not  want,  I  dare  say  the 
merchant  would  be  willing  to  take  it  back,  and  let  Mrs. 
Landon  have  the  value  in  such  goods  as  she  wants.  How 
much  is  her  bill  mama  ?" 

"Fifty  dollars,"  said  Mrs.  Norman  in  a  whisper,  "a 
monstrous  sum  for  needle  work." 

"Oh!  but  mama,  just  think  of  those  rich  embroidered 
handkerchiefs  and  beautifully  trimmed  night-dresses  she  has 
wrought,  and  made  for  you.  Will  you  not  consent  to  let 
her  have  the  piece  of  cambric  and  the  lace  ?  let  me  see,  this 
cambric,  cost  as  much  as  thirty  dollars,  and  the  lace  was 
about  twenty;  then  here  is  one  piece  of  linen  which  we  do 


IDA   NORMAN.  33 

not  want ;  let  us  return  these,  and,  besides  paying  this  bill, 
there  will  be  something  in  advance  for  the  work  MF.S.  Lan- 
don  is  now  going  to  do  for  us." 

Mrs.  Norman  convinced  that  her  daughter's  plan  was 
reasonable,  and  relieved  by  it  from  an  unpleasant  situation, 
with  some  embarrassment  explained  to  Mrs.  Landon  what 
Ida  had  said.  That  lady  looked  at  the  child  with  sur- 
prise and  approbation,  a  tear  drop  glistening  in  h<jr  soft 
blue  eye  and  very  readily  assenting  to  a  proposal  which 
would  enable  her  so  amply  to  provide  for  her  daughter. 
The  question  was,  how  the  affair  should  be  managed  with 
the  merchant  of  whom  the  goods  were  purchased.  -Mrs. 
Norman  protested  against  going  to  him,  herself,  on  *such 
an  errand;  it  would  be  very  undignified  for  a  lady  in « her 
station  to  be  seen  exchanging  goods  in  that  way,  especially 
for  common  and  cheap  articles. 

"It  would  be  proper,"  said  Mrs.  Landon,  "that  you 
should  leave  with  me  a  written  request,  addressed  to  •  the 
merchant  that  the  goods  may  be  received  in  exchange." 

"  I  know  nothing,"  replied  Mrs.  Norman,  "  of  business 
transactions,  but  if  you  will  write  an  order  of  this  kind",  I 
will  sign  it,  though  I  confess  it  is  rather  mortifying  to  be 
obliged  to  resort  to  such  a  mean  traffic  to  pay  a  debt ;  it  is  at 
least  for  me  who  brought  my  husband  more  than  a  million." 

Mrs.  Landon  on  learning  the  name  of  the  merchant,  wrote 
as  follows : 
MESSRS.  NEVINS  &,  Co. 

You  would  oblige  me  by  receiving  some  of  the 
articles  which  I  bought  of  you  this  morning,  and  giving  to 
the  bearer,  the  amount  thereof  in  such  goods  as  she  may 
want.  j 

To  this,  Mrs.  Norman  affixed  her  signature  as  follows  : 

ELIZA  TUDOR  NORMAN, 
Wife  of  Hon.  James  Livingston  Norman, 
Minister  to  the  Court  of . 


34  IDA    NORMAN. 

A  close  observer  might  have  seen  a  transient  smile  pass 
over  t]je  fine  features  of  Mrs.  Laridon,  as  she  received  the 
order  £om  Mrs.  Norman.  "  Good  morning  madam,"  said 
the  latter  with  dignity,  "  come  Ida  we  shall  be  late  home, 
and  your  father  is  expecting  a  French  nobleman  to  dine." 
Ida  k^sed  Mrs.  Landon  affectionately,  "tell  Willie,"  said 
she,  'iiie  must  forgive  me  for  putting  the  kitten  in  his  cap. 
I  wa£  then  but  a  little  girl,  I  have  learned  better  manners 
since^I  am  glad  Laura  is  at  Mrs.  Newton's,  I  dare  say  we 
shall.be  good  friends." 

Mrs.  Norman  improved  the  drive  home,  to  lecture  Ida  on 
the  Choice  of  her  associates. 

"F  would  not,"  said  she,  "hurt  the  feelings  of  Mrs. 
LaniCon,  who  I  know  was  born  and  brought  up  a  lady, 
being  descended  from  one  of  the  oldest  Dutch  families  in 
New  York;  but  at  present,  her  family  are  so  situated  in 
lifeJ  that  I  should  be  unwilling  for  you  to  associate  with  her 
chiltlren  as  your  equals.  I  think  you  talked  quite  too  much 
ahcrof  her  son  Willie,  and  the  childish  aflair  of  the  kitten  ; 
andfit  was  very  silly  in  you  to  speak  about  her  daughter 
anfl  you  being  friends  at  school.  I  trust  Mrs.  Newton, 
knowing  your  father's  rank  in  life,  and  your  future  expecta- 
tions, wjll  educate  you  accordingly,  and  prevent  all  com- 
panionsjiip  with  those  who  are  to  move  in  a  different  sphere 
of  life.  Laura  Landon  is  to  be  educated  for  a  teacher,  you 
to  siring  on  the  grand  theatre  of  life ; — you  must  keep  in 
nfmd  this  distinction,  the  consciousness  of  your  own  high 
standing  will  alone  impart  to  you  that  high  aristocratic 
Searing,  which  will,  in  all  places,  distinguish  you  from  the 
plebejiu  world  around." 

Th^-  Hon.  Mrs.  Eliza  Tudor  Norman,,  wife  of  the  Hon. 

Jameji  Livingston  Norman,  Minister  to  the  Court  of , 

was  TIOW  set  down,  at  ber  own  door,  and  hastened  -to  her 
chamber  4o  take  some  repose,  preparatory  to  a  grand  dinner 
-4pHe'tte,  as  tire  Count.  I)e  Grenouille  WAS  to  be  with  them 
to  dine,  precisely  at  seven  o'clock  that  evenmg. 


9 

IDA    NORMAN.  35 


CHAPTER    V. 

IDA  NORMAN'S  ARRIVAL  "AT  SCIENCE  HALL. 
•   ^  7  «£;•• 

THK  Norman  family  arose  earlier  than  was  their  custom, 
on  the  day  sqt  for  taking  Ida  to  the  place  destined  for 
her  home  during  some  years.  Mr.  Norman's  splendid  ba- 
rouche and  four,  with  coachman  and  footman  in  elegant 
silver  and  blue  livery,  appeared  in  due  season  at  the  door ; 
and  the  trunks,  travelling  Dags  and  band  boxes,  were  pro- 
perly adjusted. 

Mr.  Norman,  though  much  engrossed  by  the  many  cares 
that  pressed  upon  him  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  for  a  for- 
eign country /'graciously  said  to  his  lady,  that  he  would 
devote  that  day  to  his  family,  and  would,  himself,  converse 
with  Mrs.  Newton,  respecting  the  course  of  education  to  be 
pursued  with  his  daughter.  Mrs.  Norman  was  less  flattered 
than  she  otherwise  might  have  been  with  this  condescension 
on  the  part  of  the  minister  plenipotentiary,  but  for  a  feeling  of 
jealousy,  which  she  was  unwilling  to  acknowledge  even  to 
herself,  that  it  might  be  owing  to  his  desire  of  again  meeting 
with  the  lady  whom  he  had  so  extravagantly  lauded.  But 
she  was  herself,  too  much  of  a  diplomatist  to  express  by 
any  look  or  word,  a  suspicion  which  she  felt  to  be  humili- 
ating to  herself. 

Ida  arose  that  morning  with  a  full  consciousness  that  it 
ushered  in  a  day  of  deep  interest  to  herself;  but  she^4id"hot 
think  of  kneeling  down  in  her  chamber  to  pray  to  her  Hea- 
venly Father  to  protect  her,  and  to  lead  her  through  the 
various  scenes  of  this  life  to  a  better  world.  She  had  no 
religious  impressions. — Why  should  she  have  had?  No 
father's  counsel  had  directed  her  in  the  ways  of  holiness  ;  no 
mother's  voice,  in  soft  and  holy  accents,  had  taught  her  to 


36  IDA   NORMAN. 

ask  pardon  for  sins,  and  strength  to  overcome  what  was  evil 
in  her  nature.  She  had,  indeed,  been  taught  to  use  a  form 
of  words,  to  say  her  prayers ;  but  not  to  pray. 

Ida's  thoughts  on  leaving  home  were  far  less  of  trials  and 
duties,  than  of  the  sensation  which  would  be  caused  at  the 
school  by  her  arrival — the  wonder  at  her  father's  noble  ap- 
pearance and  high  station — her  mother's  beauty  and  elegant 
costume,  and  her  own  outfit,  so  recherche  and  expensive. 
Then  she  thought  of  poor  Laura  Landon,  and  how  kind  and 
condescending  she  would  be  to  her. — She  wondered  if  she 
should  find  at  the  school  any  girls  who  would  really  be  on 
a  level  with  herself — any  whom  she  would  like,  and  es- 
pecially what  Mrs.  Newton  would  think  of  such  a  new 
scholar,  and  what  she  would  say  to  her.  Julia  Selby  had 
told  her  the  rules  were  strict,  and  that  Mrs.  Newton  had  no 
particular  favorites ;  but  Ida  was  not  much  troubled  about 
all  this. — Her  case  certainly  was  an  exception  to  all  com- 
mon ones,  for  her  mother  had  promised  to  speak  with  Mrs. 
Newton,  and  tell  her  that  Ida  must  be  a  parlor  boarder,  and 
was  not  to  be  restricted  by  rules.  Having  hitherto  managed 
her  mother  by  her  half  coaxing,  half  imperious  manner, 
Ida  felt  no  little  confidence  in  her  own  address  in  bending 
others  to  her  will,  and  further  triumphs  loomed  up  in  her 
perspective  of  school  days. 

We  have  not  yet  described  Ida  Norman,  and  as  we  are 
about  to  introduce  her  to  her  school  companions,  we  may 
as  well  take  the  occasion  to  introduce  her  to  our  readers. 
Let  them  fancy  a  girl  thirteen  years  old,  but  mature  enough 
to  pass  for  fifteen,  with  a  beautiful  bust  and  shoulders,  and 
her  head  finely  placed  upon  her  neck.  She  had  been  well 
drilled  in  attitudes  and  carriage,  and  had  from  infancy  been 
taught  to  hold  her  person  erect,  her  head  up,  and  to  stand, 
sit,  and  walk  gracefully.  She  had  fine  teeth,  which  she  had 
regard  enough  for  her  looks  to  keep  clean  and  white.  Proud 
of  a  handsome  hand,  she  had  never  formed  the  bad  habit  of 


IDA    NORMAN.  37 

biting  her  nails.  She  had  not  remarkably  fine  hair,  but 
was  accustomed  to  brush  it  much,  so  that  it  had  become 
fine  and  glossy.  That  she  was  very  proud,  was  rather  the 
fault  of  her  education,  if  the  want  of  system,  management, 
and  good  instruction  can  be  called  education,  than  a  natural 
haughty  disposition.  Her  passions  were  strong — often  vio- 
lent; she  had  seldom  known  restraint,  or  suffered  disap- 
pointment, and,  of  course,  was  self-willed  and  exacting. 
She  had  acquired  no  habits  of  industry  or  application ;  and 
though  she  was  endowed  with  uncommon  talents,  and  had 
had  the  most  expensive  masters,  little  progress  had  yet  been 
made  in  the  cultivation  of  her  mind,  or  in  elegant  ac- 
complishments which  her  mother  deemed  of  the  first  im- 
portance. Her  dark  eyes  were  expressive  and  beautiful, 
when  lighted  up  by  amiable  feelings,  but  capable  of  speaking 
a  very  disagreeable  language.  The  beauty  of  Ida  Norman 
depended  much  on  the  peculiar  expression  of  her  features; 
and  when  happy,  the  glow  of  animation  which  was  diffused 
over  her  countenance,  rendered  her  very  attractive.  Anima- 
ted with  the  thoughts  of  the  new  scenes  before  her,  she 
took  her  seat  with  her  parents,  in  the  carriage  which  was 
to  convey  her  to  Science  Hall.  Louis,  the  only  brother  of 
Ida,  and  a  year  or  two  older,  was  also  of  the  party ;  he  re- 
sembled his  sister  in  many  respects ;  but  having  been  less 
indulged  and  less  flattered,  he  expected  less  from  others, 
and  could  the  more  readily  control  himself. 

The  road  to  Science  Hall  led  through  a  finely  cultivated 
region  dotted  with  elegant  country  seats,  extending  along 
the  banks  of  the  East  River,  or  arm  of  the  sea,  which  con- 
nects Long  Island  Sound  with  the  Hudson  river,  and  forms 
the  eastern  boundary  of  Manhattan  Island,  on  which  is  sit- 
uated the  city  of  New  York  and  some  beautiful  villages  and 
villas  in  its  suburbs. 

As  the  carriage  drove  up  the  shaded  avenue  of  noble  elms 
which  led  to  the  ancient,  aristocratic  building  occupied  by 
4 


38  IDA   XORMAN. 

Mrs.  Newton,  the  conversation  between  the  party,  which 
had  hitherto  been  animated,  suddenly  ceased.  Each  seemed 
busied  with  their  own  thoughts.  Mr.  Norman's  fancy,  per- 
chance pictured  scenes  of  other  days;  and  he  might  have 
felt  curious  to  know  whether  his  presence  now,  would  have 
power  to  excite  any  emotion  in  the  breast  of  Amelia  Wal- 
singham  : — he  had  become  a  great  man — distinguished  and 
honored  among  the  great  men  of  the  nation — would  she  not 
regret  that  she  had  been  so  fastidious  in  her  ideas  of  right  as 
to  reject  his  love ;  would  she  not  feel  that  this  was  now  his 
hour  of  triumph  ?  His  wife  was  beautiful,  elegant  and  dis- 
tingue, and  he  regarded  her  at  this  moment  with  pride,  if 
not  with  affection. 

Mrs.  Norman  felt  a  desire  to  humiliate  Mrs.  Newton  by  a 
display  of  their  state  and  magnificence ;  and  yet,  she  wished 
to  conciliate  her  friendship  for  the  sake  of  the  child  she 
was  about  to  commit  to  her  care.  Ida  was  impatient  to  ar- 
rive at  the  school,  to  see  and  be  seen. 

"  How  lovely  this  place  is,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it  will  be 
delightful  to  walk  here  upon  the  sea  beach,  to  pick  up  the 
shells  and  breathe  the  fresh  air  from  the  ocean. — And  yet 
this  ocean  will  he  a  barrier  between  me  and  you,  my  dear 
parents,  for  years  to  come."  Ida  dropped  a  tear  as  she 
spoke,  and  all  seemed,  for  the  moment,  sad ; — Louis  was  first 
to  break  the  silence. 

"Do  you  think,  Ida,"  said  he,  "I  shall  be  permitted  to 
visit  you  sometimes  ?  my  school  is  so  near  that  I  can  walk 
the  distance,  and  it  will  be  pleasant  for  me  to  come  here  on 
holidays." 

"Of  course,  you  will  come  when  you  please,  and  of 
course,  I  shall  see  you  whenever  you  do  come."  "  Not  so 
fast,  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Norman,  "  Louis  and  you  are 
both  to  be  under  rules,  and  must  expect  to  be  obedient  to 
those  who  have  the  care  of  you." 

"  No,  indeed,  papa,  I  am  not  to  be  under  rules,  for  ma- 


IDA    NORMAN.  39 

ma  has  promised  me  to  tell  Mrs.  Newton  that  I  am  to  be  a 
parlor  boarder." 

Mrs.  Norman  colored,  for  she  was  sensible  how  weak  and 
foolish  had  been  this  promise,  made  to  reconcile  her  daughter 
to  the  idea  of  going  to  school. 

**  Is  it  possible,  Eliza,  that  you  have  encouraged  the  child 
with  such  an  idea  ?"  said  the  father,  "  it  is  most  absurd,  and 
depend  upon  it,  Mrs.  Newton  would  decline  receiving  her 
on  any  such  terms." 

The  good  feeling  of  the  party  was  disturbed  by  the  in- 
troduction of  this  topic.  Louis,  who  with  a  good  heart, 
had  also  much  tact  and  a  ready  wit,  wishing  to  divert  the 
subject,  exclaimed,  "look,  Ida,  there  is  a  group  of  girls  at 
the  foot  of  yonder  ledge  of  rocks,  with  their  hands  full  of 
flowers ; — they  are  now  coming  to  the  road,  and  we  shall 
soon  pass  them.  If  the  first  face  you  look  at  is  a  plea- 
sant one,  you  may  consider  that  as  a  good  omen  for  you." 

Ida  turned  her  head  in  the  direction  indicated  by  her 
brother.  The  girls  had  advanced  by  a  cross-road,  and  were 
entering  the  grand  avenue  in  front  of  the  house ;  one  who 
was  a  little  in  advance,  looked  up  just  as  Ida's  face  was 
turned  towards  her.  Their  eyes  met;  the  young  stranger 
slightly  blushed,  and  modestly  bowed.  Louis  saw  the 
blush  and  the  bow,  and  whispered,  "There,  sister,  what 
could  you  ask  more,  she  is  lovely  as  a  rose-bud  and  modest 
as  a  violet." 

"See,  mama,"  said  Ida,  "surely  that  is  Laura  Landon, 
though  she  looks  fresher  and  prettier  than  when  she  was 
confined  to  sewing." 

Mrs.  Norman,  not  well  pleased  with  this  first  demonstra- 
tion of  the  plebeian  society  her  daughter  was  to  associate 
with,  coolly  said,  "I  think  Mrs.  Landon  would  have  done 
much  better  to  have  kept  her  daughter  at  home,  to  assist 
her,  and  then  she  could  have  accommodated  her  customers 
by  being  more  prompt  in  finishing  work  than  she  will  now 
be  likely  to  be." 


40  IDA  NORMAN. 

"  But,  mama,  you  know  Mrs.  Landon  told  us  Mrs.  New- 
ton offered  her  assistance  in  educating  Laura  for  a  teacher." 

"  Noble  woman,"  said  Mr.  Norman,  as  if  soliloquising, 
"  she  was  ever  studying  to  do  good." 

Mrs.  Norman  bit  her  lips  in  silence.  The  party  of  girls, 
who,  with  some  of  their  teachers,  had  been  on  a  botanical 
excursion,  all  gained  the  avenue  before  the  carriage  came 
up,  and,  quickening  their  pace,  passed  through  a  side  door 
into  the  building. 

Great  was  the  curiosity  excited  among  the  school  girls 
by  such  an  arrival;  the  lady  so  fashionably  attired,  the 
gentleman  of  so  noble  and  dignified  an  aspect; — and  the 
boy,  or  rather  the  young  gentleman,  as  the  observers  called 
him,  had  not  been  unnoticed.  Louis,  though  but  fifteen, 
was  tall  and  manly,  with  fine  features,  and  an  eye  at  once 
penetrating  and  expressive  of  genius  and  sensibility.  But 
what  excited  most  the  surprise  of  the  girls,  was  the  fact  that 
these  strangers  knew  Laura  Landon ;  which  they  had  per- 
ceived by  Ida's  bow  and  look  of  recognition. 

"  Do  tell  us,  Laura,"  said  half-a-dozen  voices  as  soon  as 
they  had  entered  the  hall,  "  who  they  are,  and  how  they 
happen  to  know  you  ?" 

u  They  are,"  said  Laura,  "  the  family  of  Mr.  Norman,  the 
gentleman  who  has  recently  been  appointed  minister  to  the 
court  of " 

"  And  are  they  acquaintances  of  yours  ?"  said  Sally  Pry, 
with  some  emphasis. 

Laura  knowing  that  to  speak  the  truth,  would  draw  upon 
her  contemptuous  treatment  from  a  portion  of  her  com- 
panions, did  not  hesitate,  but  with  a  firm  voice,  said, 
"Mrs.  Norman  and  my  mother,  were  intimate  in  their  early 
years,  but  their  situations  have  since  been  very  different, 
and  my  mother  now  sews  for  Mrs.  Norman;  I  have  only 
seen  her  and  her  daughter,  when  they  have  come  to  us  with 
work."  At  this  frank  avowal,  Sally  Pry  and  some  others 


IDA   NORMAN.  41 

exchanged  glances,  and  a  suppressed  titter  was  heard  among 
them,  as  Laura  hastened  to  her  room. 

"Indeed,  Sally  Pry,"  said  Julia  Selby,  "you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  your  inquisitiveness,  what  concern  of  yours,  is 
it  how  Laura  Landon  came  to  be  acquainted  with  these 
strangers  ?  You  have  hurt  her  feelings  very  much ;  you  all 
know  girls,  how  modest  and  unpretending  Laura  is;  how 
could  you  join  in  laughing  when  she  said  so  ingenuously, 
her  mother  sewed  for  this  lady."  "  I  did  not  mean  any 
harm,"  replied  Maria  Crump,  "  I  could'nt  help  laughing." — 
" I  think,"  said  Julia,  "any  one  can  help  laughing  who  has 
a  good  heart,  when  by  doing  so,  she  knows  she  shall  render 
another  unhappy,  I  suppose^  Maria,  you  could  not  help 
laughing  at  prayers  this  morning ;  but  do  you  suppose  that 
such  an  excuse  will  serve  you  before  God,  whom  you  offend 
by  such  levity  ?" 

"  I  do  not  acknowledge  your  right  Miss,  to  question  me," 
said  Miss  Crump ;  and  taking  Sally  Pry  by  the  arm,  they 
walked  together  to  their  own  room,  for  they  were  intimate 
friends  and  room-mates. 

Julia  Selby  did  not  tell  the  girls  what  she  knew  to  be  a 
fact  that  her  mother's  influence  had  induced  Mrs.  Norman, 
to  bring  her  daughter  to  Science  Hall,  nor  even  hint  that 
she  was  acquainted  with  the  Normans.  She  went  to  her 
room,  and  having  carefully  disposed  of  the  flowers  she  had 
gathered  to  analyse  at  their  next  botanical  lesson,  she 
arranged  her  toilette,  expecting  to  be  called  to  the  parlor  to 
see  the  visitors. 


4* 


42  IDA   NORMAN. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SCIENCE    HALL    AND   ITS   MISTRESS THE    FASHIONABLE 

LADY'S  DEPORTMENT  AND  VIEWS  OF  EDUCATION — THE 
POLITICIAN  EVINCES  FEELING  AND  GOOD  SENSE. 

SCIENCE  HALL  was  situated  near  the  East  River,  on  a 
promontory  overlooking  on  the  east  a  portion  of  Long  Is- 
land Sound,  and  at  no  great  distance  from  those  remarkable 
rapids  and  eddies  called  by  the  Dutch,  Horll-gate,  signifying 
whirlpool,  but  perverted  by  the  English  into  Hell-gate, 
which  perversion  gave  rise  to  the  kindred  terms,  the  Devils'- 
pot,  frying-pan,  &c.  applied  to  various  portions  of  a  narrow 
and  crooked  channel  of  the  East  River,  formed  by  projecting 
and  hidden  rocks,  and  where  the  oceanic  currents  act  with 
a  force  that  increases  with  the  diminished  width  of  the 
stream.  This  strait  now  commonly  called  Hurl-gate,  is  the 
outlet  of  the  waters  of  Long  Island  Sound,  which  is  con- 
nected by  the  East  River  with  the  Hudson.  On  the  west 
lay  New  York  with  its  forests  of  masts,  spires  and  cupolas. 
Though  the  city  was  within  sight,  its  noise  and  confu- 
sion fell  not  upon  the  ear  in  this  delightful  retreat,  but  in 
the  place  thereof  were  heard  the  surges  of  the  ocean  as  it 
washed  the  rocky  beach  of  an  estuary  of  Long  Island 
Sound,  a  kind  of  inland  sea,  with4ides  ebbing  and  flowing 
in  sympathy  with  the  parent  ocean. 

The  building  occupied  by  Mrs.  Newton  was  an  old- 
fashioned  stone  edifice,  erected  in  the  days  preceding  the 
American  revolution,  by  an  Englishman  of  noble  birth,  who 
warmly  attached  himself  to  the  cause  of  the  parent  country, 
at  the  period  when  America  was  struggling,  in  unequal  con- 
test, for  independence.  Sir  John  Stewart  had  indulged  his 
fine  taste  in  the  style  and  finish  of  his  baronial  mansion.  A 


IDA    NORMAN.  43 

palace  in  extent  and  the  number  of  its  apartments,  it  was 
surrounded  by  extensive  pleasure  grounds,  diversified  with 
grottoes,  artificial  lakes,  and  rustic  temples.  Bathing  houses 
were  erected  upon  the  beach,  and  a  fairy  barge,  the  Cleo- 
patra, attended  the  commands  of  the  nobly  Lady  Stewart. 
But  Sir  John's  fortune,  like  that  of  the  other  enemies  of  the 
Revolution,  or  Tories,  as  they  were  in  those  days  called, 
was  confiscated,  and  his  family  fled  to  England.  The  ba- 
ronial mansion  was  afterwards  purchased  by  Judge  Wal- 
singham,  and  at  his  death  became  the  property  of  his  only 
daughter,  Mrs.  Newton. 

Although  this  lady  did  not  possess  the  means  to  support 
the  ancient  grandeur  of  the  place,  her  fine  taste  and  good 
management  had  effected  much,  with  far  less  expense  than 
might  have  been  supposed.  There  was  an  air  of  neatness 
and  comfort,  as  well  as  elegance,  about  the  residence  which 
charmed  all  visitors. 

The  Norman  family  on  their  arrival  were  ushered  into  a 
receiving  room,  furnished  with  classical  taste,  but  without 
extravagance  or  pretension.  Mrs.  Newton  did  not  detain 
her  visitors  to  make  her  toilette  after  their  arrival,  for  she 
believed  that  a  lady  should,  on  rising,  dress  herself  in  a  style 
proper  to  receive  company,  let  them  chance  to  call  at  any 
hour.  Mrs.  Newton  was  moreover  expecting  the  Normans 
on  this  day,  as  the  arrangements  for  Ida's  being  placed  with 
her  had  been  previously  made.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  this  lady  did  not  experience  some  emotion  at  the 
thought  of  an  interview  with  a  man  whom  she  had  once 
regarded  with  tenderness;  whom  she  had  loved  until  she 
found  him  unworthy  of  her  confidence.  She  knew  he  now 
stood  high  in  the  public  estimation ;  that  he  had  attained 
political  distinction ;  that  he  was  regarded  as  a  great  man, 
and  that  flattery  and  honors  were  profusely  showered 
upon  him. 

Mrs.  Newton's  life  had  been  one  of  sorrow  and  bitter 


44  IDA    NORMAN. 

disappointment,  but  yet  she  had  never  been  an  unhappy 
woman.  Grief  is  not  necessarily  unhappiness  when  it 
springs  from  afflictions  sent  by  the  chastening  hand  of  a 
kind  Providence.  Mrs.  Newton  felt,  as  her  beloved  chil- 
dren, one  after  another,  were  consigned  to  the  grave,  that 
she  had  loved  them  too  well ;  and  when,  at  last,  the  husband 
to  whom  she  had  been  most  devotedly  attached,  was  taken 
from  her,  she  realised  that  it  was,  spiritually,  good  for  her 
that  she  was  afflicted,  and  that  "  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he 
chasteneth."  She  did  not,  like  too  many  of  her  sex  when 
trouble  assails  them,  resign  herself  to  despair,  folding  her 
handstand  throwing  upon  friends  the  burthen  of  fruitless 
attempts  at  consolation.  After  the  first  shock  was  over, 
she  looked  around  to  see  what  duty  now  remained  to  her  in 
life — she  saw  herself  a  widow,  and  childless.  In  possession 
of  an  estate  sufficient  for  all  her  moderate  wishes,  she  might, 
as  many  of  her  sex  under  similar  circumstances  would  have 
done,  sought  amid  the  brilliant  scenes  of  fashionable  society, 
to  drown  the  sad  voice  of  memory  in  the  loud  tones  of 
mirth,  or  the  enchanting  notes  of  pleasure's  syren  song. 
She  was  still  youthful  in  appearance,  her  black  and  glossy 
hair  scarcely  betrayed  a  touch  of  time  ;  her  eyes  though  oft 
"dimmed  by  sorrow's  tear,"  were  still  beautifully  expressive 
of  the  soul  which  waked  through  them;  her  complexion 
though  the  roses  had  somewhat  faded  was  still  fair  and 
youthful,  and  her  step  light  and  elastic. 

Mrs.  Newton  was  a  Christian,  and  believed  that  this  life 
is  but  the  entrance  to  one  that  will  be  eternal,  and  that  in 
this  probationary  state  we  should  desire  to  be  useful  rather 
than  happy. 

Stewart  Hall,  had  been  for  many  years  before  his  death, 
the  family  residence  of  Judge  Walsingham ;  but  the  family 
circle  gradually  lessened  until  all  but  one  were  gone; 
and  she,  the  widowed,  childless  daughter,  walked  alone 
through  the  deserted  apartments ;  the  memories  of  the  loved 


IDA    NORMAN.  45 

and  lost  rose  before  her  in  mournful  review — there  were 
the  portraits  of  her  husband  and  children  looking  down 
upon  her  with  smiles  of  love  and  happiness,  as  in  times  past 
when  life  was  warm  and  each  day  opened  on  new  pleasures 
expanding  in  the  genial  rays  of  affection.  Her  mother  in 
the  stiff  cap,  and  spreading  ruff  of  a  former  age,  and  her 
venerable  father  in  his  curled  and  powdered  wig  were  there 
as  the  inimitable  West  had  painted  them,  looking  so  like 
life  that  the  heart  was  pained  by  the  mockery  of  deception. 
Here  was  the  old  arm-chair  of  her  father  by  his  writing 
table  ;  and  there,  on  the  work-stand,  her  mother's  bible  with 
her  small  rocking  chair  placed  as  in  former  days  near  the 
seat  of  her  father.  The  ample  and  well-selected  library  was 
undisturbed ;  dusty  cob-webs  and  damp  mould  spoke  of  de- 
sertion and  solitude.  The  dining  hall  where  merry  voices 
had  once  resounded  was  silent,  and  echo  alone  responded  to 
the  sigh  which  escaped  from  Mrs.  Newton  as  she  contem- 
plated the  lone  and  desolate  apartment.  "  This,"  said  she  to 
herself,  "will never  do.  I  should  soon,  in  these  sad  contem- 
plations lose  myself,  my  talents  and  my  energies,  and  become 
an  unprofitable  servant  in  the  vineyard  of  my  master.  Have  I 
nothing  to  do  in  life  ?  are  there  none  in  the  world  to  love  ?  A 
thought  strikes  me — methinks  T  see  these  halls  filled  with 
happy  and  loving  young  girls,  they  gather  around  me  and 
listen  to  my  counsels.  I  no  longer  sigh  and  regard  life  as 
useless ;  in  my  garden  of  immortal  plants,  I  find  occupation 
for  all  my  faculties,  and  enough  to  warm  and  quicken  my 
emotions.  The  picture  thus  suddenly  daguerreotyped  on 
her  heart  remained  permanent,  and  she  sought  to  render  it  a 
living  tableau. 

Mrs.  Selby,  the  intimate  and  confidential  friend  of  Mrs. 
Newton,  had  looked  with  anxiety  to  the  course  she  might 
take  in  her  state  of  desolation  and  bereavement.  Mrs. 
Selby  was  delighted  both  on  her  own  account  and  that 
of  her  friend,  when  the  latter  communicated  her  plan.  She 


46  IDA     NORMAN. 

knew  Mrs.  Newton  possessed  peculiar  qualities  to  act  as 
the  guide  of  youth,  and  readily  imagined  how  delightfully 
this  employment  would  occupy  her  mind,  and  call  forth  her 
dormant  energies. 

"  This  is  an  excellent  idea,  my  dear  Amelia,"  said  Mrs. 
Selby,  "  of  all  others  in  the  world,  I  would  prefer  that  my 
own  dear  child  should  be  under  your  guidance ;  indeed, 
you  are  the  only  person  to  whom  I  would  entrust  the 
forming  of  her  mind  and  character." 

Mrs.  Newton  pressed  in  silence  the  hand  of  her  friend; 
she  regarded  this  successful  beginning  as  a  favorable  indica- 
tion that  her  plan  was  approved  by  her  Heavenly  Father. 
Conscious  of  her  own  dignity  of  character,  and  the  high  esti- 
mation in  which  she  was  held  hi  society,  she  could  entertain 
no  doubt  of  ultimate  success. 

It  was  announced  in  the  public  prints,  that  at  Stewart  Hall, 
the  late  residence  of  Judge  Walsingham,  hereafter  to  be 
called  Science  Hall,  his  daughter,  3Irs.  Newton,  would  re- 
ceive a  limited  number  of  pupils.  Great  was  the  surprise 
expressed  by  many,  that  so  elegant  and  accomplished  a  lady 
as  Mrs.  Newton,  should  descend  to  be  a  teacher.  One  lady, 
whose  husband  had  grown  rich  by  success  in  the  butchering 
business,  said,  in  reference  to  the  event,  "she  thought,  for 
her  part,  school  keeping  was  the  last  resort," — the  daughter 
of  a  wealthy  grocer  said,  "  she  should  think  Mrs.  Newton 
would  prefer  to  take  in  plain  sewing  for  her  living," — a 
former  school  companion  exclaimed,  "who  would  have 
thought  that  the  lofty  Amelia  Walsingham  would  ever  have 
come  down  to  be  a  school  teacher  I"  and  many  remarked, 
"  what  a  fool  she  was  not  to  have  married  the  elegant  Mr. 
Norman,  and  then,  instead  of  being  obliged  to  open  a  school, 

she  might  now  be  going  to as  the  wife  of  the  American 

minister  plenipotentiary."  Mrs.  Newton  occasionally  met 
with  a  friend  kind  enough  to  repeat  some  of  these  remarks  ; 
but  to  a  mind  like  hers  thev  were  harmless.  She  cared 


IDA    NORMAN.  47 

little  for  such  opinions,  having,  long  since,  learned  that, 
"  the  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with  God." 

But,  as  we  have  remarked,  it  was  not  without  some  little 
emotion  that  Mrs.  Newton  entered  the  parlor  after  receiving 
the  card  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Norman,  though  she  had  perfect 
command  of  herself; — Mr.  Norman  was  to  her  now,  but 
the  father  of  one  who  was  to  be  her  pupil,  and  even  the 
transient  flush  that  had  passed  over  her  features  soon 
passed  away,  and  she  appeared  as  usual,  calm  and  self- 
possessed.  Mr.  Norman,  with  the  elegance  and  grace  of 
a  finished  man  of  the  world,  stepped  forward  and  met 
Mrs.  Newton  on  her  entrance.  He  was  somewhat  em- 
barrassed by  the  composed  manner  in  which  she  received 
his  salutation  of,  "my  dear  Mrs.  Newton,  I  am  really 
most  happy  once  more  to  see  you,  you  are  looking  as 
young  and  beautiful  as  at  twenty."  Mrs.  Newton  politely 
offered  her  hand,  neither  seeming  to  receive  nor  to  reject 
the  compliment,  but  rather  as  if  regarding  it  as  too  com- 
mon-place to  require  notice. 

Introduction,  in  due  form,  took  place  between  the  ladies. 
Mrs.  Newton  remembered,  as  a  school  girl,  the  beautiful 
and  proud  Eliza  Tudor,  shallow  in  intellect,  and  vain  of  her 
wealth,  beauty  and  high  family  connections. 

Mrs.  Norman  did  not  condescend  to  rise,  but  bowed 
coldly  and  with  assumed  dignity  passed  the  customary 
greetings.  Ida,  who  was  standing  near  her  mother,  could 
not,  young  as  she  was,  but  observe  the  contrast  between 
true  and  affected  dignity.  Mrs.  Newton's  air  was  frank,  no- 
ble and  commanding,  yet  sweet  and  winning ; — her  mother's 
manners,  forbidding  and  supercilious,  inspiring  dislike  rather 
than  respect.  Ida  had  much  native  penetration ;  she  felt  that 
she  could  love  Mrs.  Newton,  and  scarcely  Availed  for  her 
father  to  say,  "this  is  our  daughter,"  before  she  had  seized 
Mrs.  Newton's  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  The  action 


48  IDA   NORMAN. 

drew  tears  to  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Newton,  reminding  her,  by  a 
rapid  association  of  ideas,  of  her  own  dear  child,  who  would 
have  been  about  Ida's  age.  Though  Mr.  Norman's  flattery, 
and  the  coldness  of  his  wife  had  failed  to  move  Mrs.  Newton, 
the  simple  act  of  the  child  for  a  moment  affected  her,  and  she 
met  Ida's  look  of  confidence  with  an  expression  such  as  she 
had  never  before  seen,  so  full  of  soul,  so  deep  and  touching, 
so  maternal,  and  yet  so  anxious  ; — and  never,  in  after  life, 
did  Ida  forget  it.  Louis  Norman  went  through  his  introduc- 
tion to  Mrs.  Newton  in  a  manly  and  graceful  manner,  and  im- 
pressed that  lady  favorably  with  respect  to  his  character, 
though  she  soon  perceived,  both  in  him  and  his  sister,  the 
want  of  a  judicious  and  careful  training. 

When  Mr.  Norman  opened  the  subject  which  had  brought 
them  to  pay  this  visit,  Mrs.  Newton  proposed  sending  for 
Julia  Selby,  to  accompany  Master  Norman  and  Miss  Ida  to 
the  garden,  and  the  grotto  on  the  beach.  "  I  shall  be  glad," 
said  Mrs.  Norman,  "  to  have  Ida  become  intimate  with  Julia 
Selby,  her  mother  was  from  one  of  our  eldest  and  best  fam- 
ilies, and  is,  decidedly,  distinguished  in  society." 

v'  I  do  not  think,"  replied  Mrs.  Newton,  "  that  Mrs.  Selby 
is  ambitious  of  such  a  distinction,  if,  by  society,  you  mean 
the  fashionable  circle.  She  has  fine  taste,  and  every  thing 
she  does  is  graceful,  therefore  she  is  imitated  in  dress,  man- 
ners and  furniture ;  but  in  goodness  of  heart  and  benevolence, 
I  fear  she  has  few  imitators." 

"  Mama,"  said  Ida,  "  Louis  says,  please  ask  Mrs.  Newton 
to  let  Laura  Landon  go  with  us  to  the  garden."  The  frown 
which  Mrs.  Norman  gave  her  daughter  was  perceived  by 
Mrs.  Newton,  and  spoke  volumes  in  respect  to  the  feelings 
and  character  of  the  mother. 

Julia  Selby  soon  made  her  appearance ;  she  did  not  stand 
irresolutely  at  the  door,  as  if  afraid  to  enter ;  nor  stop  in  the 
passage  near  the  door,  to  reconnoitre,  and  see  how  she  could 


IDA  NORMAN.  49 

best  get  in,  leaving  persons  within  the  room  to  perceive  her 
shadow  or  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  dress;  but  Miss  Selby 
entered  the  room  without  embarrassment,  courtesying  first 
to  Mrs.  Newton,  as  if  awaiting  her  explanation  as  to  the 
purpose  for  which  she  had  been  called.  "  My  dear,"  said 
the  former,  "  Mrs.  Norman  has  brought  her  daughter  to  re- 
main with  us,  and  I  have  sent  to  ask  you  to  walk  about  the 
grounds  with  her  and  her  brother,  while  I  am  engaged  in 
consulting  with  her  parents  respecting  her  education." 

Mrs.  Norman  very  graciously  kissed  Miss  Julia,  telling 
her,  she  hoped  she  would  be  a  good  friend  to  Ida,  when 
her  parents  were  far  distant.  Mrs.  Norman  spoke  with 
feeling,  for  she  was  an  affectionate  mother,  and  felt  deeply, 
where  her  children  were  concerned.  Julia  having  embraced 
Ida  with  warmth,  and  shook  hands  cordially  and  frankly 
with  Louis,  the  three  left  the  room  together,  and  were  soon 
seen  with  the  light-heartedness  of  youth,  gathering  sea-shells, 
plucking  flowers,  and  chasing  butterflies ; — how  soon  do 
other  objects  than  these,  but  in  reality,  as  unimportant,  en- 
gross the  maturer  mind ! 

After  the  young  persons  had  left  the  room,  Mrs.  Newton 
remarked,  "  I  thought  it  better  our  conversation  should  be 
private,  it  is  possible  my  views  on  the  subject  of  education 
may  not  harmonize  with  yours,  in  which  case,  it  would  not 
be  well  your  daughter  should  witness  any  divided  councils 
in  respect  to  her." 

"We  expect,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr.  Norman,  uto 
place  our  child  with  you,  to  be  directed  in  her  education, 
and  to  be  governed  and  controlled  as  you  may  think  best." 

"  We  expect  her  to  be  educated  by  Mrs.  Newton,  whose 
qualifications  as  a  teacher  are  certainly  undoubted,"  said 
Mrs.  Norman,  with  a  haughty  look,  "  but  as  to  her  being 
governed  and  controlled,  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  at  all  ne- 
cessary. She  is  now  old  enough  to  direct  herself,  and  I 
should  wish  her  to  be  entered  as  a  parlor  boarder ;  we  do 
5 


50  IDA    NORMAN. 

not,  of  course,  regard  expense,  and  I  am  not  willing  she 
should  be  put  on  a  level  with  other  pupils." 

"I  do  not,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "receive  parlor  board- 
ers, as  the  term  is  usually  understood ;  I  make  no  distinc- 
tions among  my  pupils,  and,  I  am  quite  certain  that  in  your 
daughter's  case,  strict  discipline,  at  first,  will  be  required. 
I  should  not  be  willing  to  take  charge  of  the  education  of 
any  young  person  without  considering  myself  wholly  unre- 
stricted, as  to  the  discipline  which  I  might  think  necessary." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Norman,  "  you  are  right  my  dear 
madam,  and  I  am  quite  surprised  and  mortified  that  you. 
Mrs.  Norman,  should  have  suggested  a  wish  that  our 
daughter  might  be  exempted  from  necessary  discipline." 

Mrs.  Norman  bit  her  lips  and  looked  her  displeasure,  but 
soon  found  utterance.  "  I  am  told,  Mrs.  Newton,  that  you 
have  in  your  school  a  custom  of  exacting  from  the  pupils 
some  services  which  I  consider  as  wholly  beneath  young 
ladies  of  high  standing ;  but  I  presume  it  is  only  in  the  case 
of  certain  girls,  such  as  Laura  Landon,  who  have  been 
brought  up  to  labor,  that  you  expect  a  pupil  to  have  the  care 
of  her  own  apartment.  With  my  daughter's  expectations, 
we  could  never  consent  to  submit  to  any  thing  so  low  and 
vulgar."  "Then,  indeed  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "I 
must  decline  receiving  her; — I  have  before  said  we  know 
of  no  distinctions  among  our  pupils,  except,  I  may  add, 
such  as  are  founded  on  talents  and  moral  worth." 

The  tone  in  which  the  two  last  words  were  uttered, 
thrilled  the  heart  of  Mr.  Norman,  he  knew  well  Mrs.  New- 
ton's high  standard  of  morality ; — had  he  not  cause  to  know  ? 
But  his  daughter's  welfare  was  now  the  question,  and  he 
sternly  said,  "  I  leave  to  you,  Mrs.  Norman,  the  choice  of 
your  own  dress,  equipage,  amusements  and  society,  but  I 
am  decided  on  the  subject  of  Ida's  remaining  with  Mr?. 
Newton.  The  future  is  all  uncertain ; — we  may,  perhaps, 
never  return  to  America;  Ida  may  be  left  an  orphan 


IDA    NORMAN.  51 

without  fortune,  and  I  know  that  in  my  friend  she  will 
find  a  mother;  aye,  more  and  better  than  either  father  or 
mother  have  Ibeen  to  her ;  one  who  will  teach  her  that  she 
has  a^  soul,  who  will  awaken  the  dormant  powers  of  her 
mind  and  give  her  a  new  being,  or  rather,  bring  out  and 
render  active,  her  moral  powers  and  intellectual  energies 
which  have  hitherto  slumbered.  Yes,  Amelia,  for  permit 
me  once,  more  to  address  you  by  that  name,  God,  in  his 
providence,  calls  you  to  the  care  of  my  child.  I  have,  at 
times,  forbodings  that  I  may  never  return  to  my  own  coun- 
try; my  private  affairs  are  in  an  unsettled  state  and  in  what 
condition  they  may  be  found,  should  I  die  abroad,  1  know 
not.  My  son,  too, — will  you,  for  his  father's  sake,  some- 
times inquire  after  his  welfare,  and  give  him  your  counsel  ? 
I  know  I  ask  much  of  you,  but  I  know  your  noble  nature. 
This  painful  duty  discharged  of  commending  my  children 
to  your  care  and  kindness,  I  shall  hasten  preparations  for 
our  departure  with  a  lighter  heart."  The  voice  of  Mr.  Nor- 
man was  tremulous,  he  was  deeply  agitated,  and,  for  the 
moment,  the  politician  was  lost  in  the  father. 

Mrs.  Norman  seemed  petrified  with  the  scene,  but  deter- 
mined to  consider  wealth  and  grandeur  as  imperishable,  and 
blind  to  every  indication  of  a  reverse  of  fortune,  she  ex- 
pressed her  surprise  and  mortification  that  Mr.  Norman 
should,  for  a  moment,  suppose  her  children  would  ever  be 
left  to  need  pecuniary  assistance ;  that  he  should  forget  their 
real  condition,  in  his  strange  apprehensions.  Mrs.  Newton 
was  deeply  affected  by  Mr.  Norman's  appeal,  and  with  her 
usual  warmth  of  sympathy,  hesitated  not  to  assure  him  that 
she  would  consider  herself  the  guardian  of  his  children, 
and  for  the  sake  of  former  friendship  for  their  father,  watch 
over  them,  and  be  near  them  in  times  of  adversity,  should 
such  come  to  them. 

Mr.  Norman  hurried  their  departure,  too  deeply  affected 
to  remain  to  dine  as  Mrs.  Newton  expected.  He  grasped 


52  IDA    NORMAN. 

her  hand  in  silent  anguish  at  parting,  and  exclaimed  in  a  low 
tone,  may  the  children  prove  more  worthy  your  regard  than 
did  the  father!  The  assumed  dignity  and  importance  of  the 
great  man  had  all  vanished :  the  past  had  come  up,  in  its 
degradation  and  bitterness;  and  sorrow,  and  perchance 
disgrace,  crowded  the  perspective  of  the  distant  future. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
IDA  NORMAN'S  FIRST  TRIAL. 

IDA  NORMAN  was  called  in  from  the  garden  to  take  leave 
of  her  parents.  She  at  first  bore  the  separation  heroically. 
She  had  a  pride  in  appearing  calm  on  the  occasion,  because 
she  was  looked  at  and  observed,  and  she  wished  to  inspire 
admiration  in  those  who  beheld  her,  especially  to  give 
Mrs.  Newton  an  impression  of  her  strength  of  character. 
Her  mother  whispered  at  parting,  "  you  have  plenty  of 
money,  and  can  hire  the  servants  to  do  for  you  what  the 
rules  may  require  that  is  disagreeable,  and  if  you  are  not 
happy  here  you  shall  not  stay;  there  are  other  schools 
enough  besides  this,  and  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  any  one 
here." 

As  the  sound  of  the  carriage  wheels  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance, Ida  began  to  feel  her  resolution  give  way.  The  ex- 
citement of  novelty  was  gone,  and  new,  and  different  feelings 
took  possession  of  her  mind.  She  remained  standing  in  the 
portico  from  which  she  had  watched  the  departure  of  her 
parents  and  brother,  and  leaning  against  a  pillar,  began  to 
weep.  Mrs.  Newton,  addressing  her  in  the  kindest  manner, 
attempted  to  take  her  hand,  but  Ida  drew  herself  proudly 
back,  with  a  gesture  of  mingled  contempt  and  hauteury 


IDA    NORMAN.  53 

sobbing  violently,  and  becoming  more  and  more  excited  as 
she  gave  vent  to  the  passions  which  agitated  her.  Mrs. 
Newton  finding  her  attempts  to  soothe  and  calm  her  feel- 
ings were  fruitless,  adopted  a  different  course;  "Miss  Ida," 
said  she,  in  a  decided  tone,  "  I  cannot  permit  you  to  allow 
yourself  the  indulgence  of  such  excitement,  and  in  this  public 
place ;  you  will  please  go  with  me  to  my  private  parlor." 
fda  who  took  no  notice  of  this  speech  but  by  sobbing 
the  louder,  cried  out,  "  I  want  to  go  home,  I  can't  stay  here, 
I  won't  stay."  Mrs.  Newton  rang  the  door-bell; — "ask 
Miss  Wentworth  and  Miss  Milburn,  to  have  the  goodness 
to  come  here,"  said  she  to  the  servant  that  obeyed  the 
summons.  In  a  few  minutes,  two  ladies  appeared ;  Miss 
Wentworth,  the  elder  lady,  had  an  air  of  dignity  and 
command  accompanied  with  a  sweet  and  amiable  expression. 
Miss  Milburn,  a  young  lady  of  winning  manners,  though 
she  seemed  too  gentle  to  command,  had  yet  a  decided  ex- 
pression, almost  at  variance  with  her  youthful  and  timid 
aspect. 

"I  have  sent  for  you  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "de- 
siring your  assistance  in  conducting  Miss  Ida  Norman 
to  a  private  and  retired  room,  where  she  may  have  an  op- 
portunity to  reflect  on  the  impropriety  of  her  present  con- 
duct. I  hope  she  will  not  render  it  necessary  for  me  to  keep 
her,  for  any  length  of  time,  in  disgrace  and  confinement." 

Miss  Wentworth  advanced  to  Ida,  and  said,  "  You  may 
go  with  me,  Miss,  if  you  please." 

"  But  I  don't  please,"  screamed  Ida,  "  I  am  not  pleased 
with  any  thing  here,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  stay ; — my  mama 
said  I  need  not  stay  if  I  did  not  wish  to." 

"We  must,  at  once,  terminate  this  disgraceful  scene,"  said 
Mrs.  Newton,  "  and  unless  you,  Miss  Ida,  choose  to  walk 
in  a  proper  manner  with  these  two  ladies,  who  will  treat 
you  kindly  if  you  deserve  it,  I  shall  directly  order  that  you 
be  conveyed  forcibly  to  a  private  room." 
5* 


54  IDA    NORMAN. 

With  a  face  flushed  and  eyes  inflamed,  though  moistened 
by  no  tears,  Ida  Norman  assumed  an  air  of  calmness 
and  offended  dignity,  and  courtesying  to  the  two  ladies 
whom  Mrs.  Newton  had-  called,  said  "  I  suppose  you  are 
teachers,  and  consider  it  an  honor  to  be  named  as  the 
jailers  of  a  poor  defenceless  girl :  but  I  am  ready  to  go  to 
my  dungeon ;" — and  she  walked  towards  the  door  with  an 
assumed  importance,  which  would  have  been  ludicrous  if 
the  scene  had  not  been  too  painfully  distressing  to  admit  of 
a  lighter  feeling. 

"  Since  I  make  no  resistance,  I  suppose  one  jailer  will  an- 
swer," said  Ida,  "  and  if  I  may  choose,  I  would  prefer  the 
company  of  that  person,"  pointing  to  Miss  Milburn,  "she 
looks  as  if  she  might  have  some  compassion  for  the  op- 
pressed." "Certainly,  Miss  Milburn  shall  go  alone  with 
you  if  you  prefer  it,"  said  Mrs.  Newton;  and  the  two 
entered  the  hall  together,  and  ascended  the  stairs  leading  to 
a  room  somewhat  retired  from  the  apartments  of  the  pupils, 
and  adjoining  that  of  Miss  Wentworth. 

"  A  most  dreadful  example  of  an  ungoverned  child,"  ob- 
served Mrs.  Newton  to  Miss  Wentworth. 

"  Do  you  not  despair,  my  dear  madam,"  replied  the  lat- 
ter, "  of  being  able  to  do  any  thing  with  one  so  headstrong 
and  unmanageable  ?  Would  it  not  be  best  to  send  imme- 
diately for  her  parents  to  take  her  away.  She  seems  utterly 
insane." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "  she  is,  for  the  moment,  in- 
sane ;  she  is  scarcely  accountable  for  what  she  says  and 
does  under  the  influence  of  such  passions  as  now  have  do- 
minion over  her  5 — but,  my  dear  Miss  Wentworth,  does  the 
physician  abandon  his  worst  patients,  and  say  there  is  no 
use  in  trying  remedies  for  bad  cases  ?  The  educator  is,  in 
some  respects,  a  physician,  though  the  maladies  he  is  to 
cure  are  those  of  the  mind  rather  than  of  the  body.  There 
would  be  little  merit  in  succeeding  only  with  pupils  who 


IDA    NORMAN.  55 

are  already  good.  The  skilful  physician  is  he  who  can 
cure  bad  cases.  We  have  had  some  success  with  very 
unpromising  patients ;  there  is  Amanda  Sanderson,  now  one 
of  our  best  girls,  you  cannot  have  forgotten  how  she  ap- 
peared when  she  first  came  here." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Wentworth,  "I  remember  well 
that  I  considered  her  case  as  incurable ;  and  it  was,  in  some 
respects,  worse  than  this  of  Ida  Norman,  for  she  seemed  to 
be  destitute  of  sensibility  or  conscience." 

"  Thank  God,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "  he  has  created  none 
of  our  species  without  conscience ;  it  exists  in  the  hearts 
of  all,  except  those  who,  by  a  long  course  of  sin,  have  ex- 
tinguished the  inward  light.  But  for  the  young,  who  are, 
as  it  were,  yet  fresh  from  the  hand  of  their  Creator,  there  is 
always  hope.  True,  their  passions  may  be  violent,  their 
reason  feeble,  and  they  may  seem  deaf  to  the  voice  of  con- 
science; but  let  us  wait  until  the  storm  passes,  and  we 
shall  often  see  the  dawn  of  virtuous  resolve  breaking  in 
upon  their  minds,  and  by  timely  aiding  them  in  the  work  of 
reformation,  we  may  effect  much.  But  we  must  wait  until 
the  favorable  moment  comes  for  sowing  the  good  seed.  So 
far  from  despairing  of  Ida  Norman,  I  am  quite  certain  she 
will  one  day  become  an  amiable  and  good  woman." 

"The  prospect  is  dark  now,"  said  Miss  Wentworth, 
shaking  her  head. 

"  Yes,  I  grant  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Newton ;  "  but  not  more 
so  than  I  had  expected  from  the  manner  in  which  she  has 
been  brought  up,  and  from  what  I  know  of  the  characters 
of  her  parents,  and  yet,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  so  low 
as  scarcely  to  be  audible,  "  her  father  possessed  many  noble 
traits  of  character,  with  an  intellect  capable  of  grasping  al- 
most any  finite  subject;  but  his  moral  education  was  defec- 
tive, and  thus  the  dignity  of  his  lofty  mind  was  obscured; 
his  talents  have  been  perverted  to  political  intrigue,  and 
though  naturally  ingenuous,  he  has  allowed  himself  to  fol- 
low the  wiles  of  a  crooked  and  worldly  policy." 


56  IDA    NORMAN. 

'  Mrs.  Newton  paused  a  moment,  as  if  affected  by  some 
painful  emotion,  and  then  said,  "You  will,  I  know,  my 
dear  Miss  Wentworth,  give  me  all  possible  aid  in  the  care  of 
this  poor  child.  Though,  when  under  the  influence  of  tem- 
per, she  may  be  insolent  and  overbearing,  you  will,  in  her 
better  moods,  find  her  grateful  and  affectionate ;  but  we  must 
wait  patiently  for  the  fruits — we  have  now  to  sow  good 
seed.  Anna  Milburn  will  yield  nothing  to  insolence,  but 
she  will  soon  gain  an  influence  over  this  perverse  girl. 
When  this  burst  of  passion  shall  have  subsided,  you  will 
please  direct  that  her  dinner  be  sent  to  her;  if  she  refuse  to 
eat  she  should  not  be  urged — to  let  her  alone  will  be  the 
greatest  kindness  at  present." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    CONVERSATION. 

THE  bell  soon  called  the  members  of  the  large  family  to 
the  dining  hall.  Much  disappointment  was  felt  by  the  pu- 
pils when  they  saw  Julia  Selby  enter  without  the  new 
scholar ;  and  when  Mrs.  Newton  came,  too,  unaccompanied 
by  her,  the  last  hope  of  having  their  curiosity  gratified  was 
given  up.  Sally  Pry  was  very  uneasy  and  whispered  to 
Maria  Crump,  "this  is  very  queer,  what  do  you  suppose 
is  the  reason  the  new  scholar  is  not  at  table  ?"  "  How  do 
I  know  ?"  was  the  polite  answer,  "  I  am  sure  I  do  not  care 
for  her,  if  she  did  come  in  a  grand  carriage  with  four  horses 
she  is  no  better  than  I  am." 

Julia  Selby  was  uneasy,  suspecting  that  something  was 
wrong ;  she  said  to  Laura  Landon,  as  they  left  the  dining 


IDA    NORMAN.  57 

hall  together,  "  I  am  quite  distressed  that  Ida  Norman  did 
not  come  down  to  dinner,  I  hope  she  will  not  begin  to  give 
Mrs.  Newton  trouble ;  she  is  very  violent  in  her  passions. 
I  believe,  my  dear,  you  know  Ida." 

"  Very  slightly,  Miss  Selby,  I  have  only  seen  her  when 
she  came  with  her  mother  to  bring  sewing  to  us,"  said 
Laura,  modestly,  "but  she  always  seemed  amiable,  and  I 
loved  her,  though  a  stranger." 

"  Come  this  way,  Laura,"  said  Julia  Selby,  "  let  us  take  a 
short  walk  before  the  school  bell  rings ;  I  have  something 
to  say  to  you." 

The  two  school  girls  took  their  bonnets  and  walked  to  a 
grove,  where  was  a  pleasant  summer  house  overlooking  the 
sea,  and  surrounded  with  beautiful  flowers  and  shrubbery. 

"Now,  Laura,"  said  Julia,  as  they  seated  themselves  in 
this  pleasant  vine-covered  arbor,  "  I  am  going  to  speak  to 
you  as  a  friend.  You  know,  from  the  first  of  your  coming 
here,  I  have  always  loved  you." 

Laura's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  she  said,  "  indeed  you 
have  ever  been  kind  to  me  as  a  sister  could  have  been ;  do 
you  think,  my  dear  Miss  Selby,  I  am  ungrateful." 

"No,  dear  Laura,  do  not  talk  of  gratitude ;  you  make  me 
happy  when  I  am  with  you,  and  why  should  you  be  grate- 
ful to  me  when  I  am  the  obliged  one  ?" 

"  Oh,  but  there  is  such  a  difference  in  our  conditions  in 
life,  that  I  ought  to  be  grateful  for  your  friendship;  you  can 
make  your  choice  of  friends,  it  is  not  so  with  me." 

"  That  is  the  very  thing  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about," 
said  Julia,  "  there  is  no  necessity  of  your  speaking  of  your 
condition  in  life,  or  of  your  mother's  sewing  for  Mrs.  Nor- 
man— you  know,  that  with  me  you  can  speak  of  any  thing 
you  like ;  I  love  you  for  your  sweet  disposition,  your  purity 
of  mind,  and  because  you  are  by  nature  a  lady ;  but  many 
do  not  consider  these  things,  and  presume  to  treat  you 


58  IDA    NORMAN. 

rudely  on  account  of  your  humble  circumstances ;  I  cannot 
bear  to  see  this." 

Laura  pressed  Julia's  hand,  and  for  a  moment  remained 
silent.  "  Do  not,  my  dear  Miss  Selby,"  said  she,  wiping 
away  the  tears  which  filled  her  eyes,  "suffer  your  own  bright 
and  happy  spirits  to  be,  for  a  moment,  clouded  by  regret 
for  the  trials  which  have  fallen  to  my  lot.  For  your  sake, 
I  will  not  unnecessarily  speak  of  the  humble  circumstances 
of  my  family,  and  my  own  state  of  dependence  on  the 
kindness  of  dear  Mrs.  Newton  •,  but  I  have  been  taught  by 
my  dear  mother  to  consider  dignity  of  mind  and  character 
as  not  depending  on  external  circumstances ;  and  she  en- 
joined it  upon  me,  so  much,  when  I  was  about  to  leave  her, 
to  avoid  using  the  least  disguise  respecting  her  employ- 
ment, or  my  own  situation  here,  that  I  have,  perhaps,  gone 
further  than  was  really  necessary,  in  answering  questions, 
even  when  I  saw  they  were  not  put  in  a  friendly  spirit."  * 

"Yes,  dear  Laura,  that  is  what  I  cannot  endure,  that  you 
will  reply  at  all  to  such  girls  as  Sally  Pry  and  Maria  Crump, 
when  they  ask  you  impertinent  questions." 

"Do  you  not  think,"  said  Laura  modestly,  "that  such  a 
course  is  more  likely  to  put  an  end  to  impertinence,  than  if 
I  shewed  myself  offended,  or  too  proud  to  tell  the  truth? 
You  know  that  when  occasion  requires,  I  can  take  my  own 
part  and  repel  impertinence;  but  I  am  willing  all  should 
know  that  Mrs.  Newton  is  my  friend,  I  am  proud  that  she 
has  deemed  me  worthy  of  her  patronage,  and  my  greatest 
fear  is  that  I  may  not  be  grateful  for  all  her  kindness." 

"Again,"  said  Julia,  "you  are  too  humble; — you  know 
Laura,  that  you  do  deserve  Mrs.  Newton's  friendship,  that 
your  example  in  her  school,  is  worth  more  to  her  than  the 
expense  of  your  education;  you  know  she  feels  this,  and 
treats  you  with  as  much  consideration  as  any  pupil  in 
school.  I  cannot  endure,  that  you  should  regard  yourself 
a  dependent." 


IDA   NORMAN.  59 

"Gratitude  is  a  sweet  feeling,"  said  Laura,  "I  would  not 
part  with  it. — I  love  to  think  of  the  kindness,  which  has 
taken  me  from  a  situation  where  my  mind  was  shut  up  from 
the  light  of  knowledge ;  where  incessant  toil  to  earn  a  small 
pittance  to  supply  daily  wants,  was  the  only  prospect  before 
me,  while  at  the  same  time  conscious  of  possessing  facul- 
ties of  mind  which  if  cultivated  would  present  fields  of 
thought  and  worlds  of  intellectual  riches,  then  hidden  by 
ignorance  from  my  view.  Mrs.  Newton,  my  mother's  early 
friend,  has  lifted  the  veil  from  my  mental  vision,  she  has 
placed  me  in  this  blessed  world  of  intellectual  enjoyment. 
I  would  not  forget  the  past,  the  remembrance  of  it  should 
serve  to  render  me  more  happy,  more  thankful  to  God, 
who  has  in  his  good  providence  raised  me  to  a  higher 
region  of  light  and  life." 

"Laura  Landon,  you  are  a  strange  girl,"  said  Julia,  "you 
always  get  the  better  of  me  at  last,  though  you  begin  by 
seeming  to  yield  to  my  reasons  •,  I  see  that  your  feelings 
are  more  noble  than  mine; — while  I  would  do  homage  to  a 
mean  prejudice  by  trying  to  keep  the  truth  behind  the 
curtain,  as  if  afraid  it  should  be  brought  to  light,  you 
heroically  resolve  to  let  it  stand  on  its  own  merits.  Well, 
you  are  right,  Laura,  and  I  will  sustain  you,  though  it 
does  vex  me  to  see  those  mean  girls  take  airs  over  you, 
who  are,  in  reality,  so  much  their  superior.  Yes,  Laura, 
and  my  superior  too,  for  though  I  have  always  had  every 
advantage  of  education,  an  excellent  mother  to  guide  and 
direct  me,  and  have  been  longer  with  Mrs.  Newton,  my 
second  mother,  than  you  have,  yet  I  am  often  put  to  the 
blush  by  your  superior  understanding  and  higher  moral 
purpose." 

•'Indeed,  Miss  Selby  you  should  not  thus  praise  me," 
said  Laura;  "yet  I  know  that  I  have  enjoyed  one  advantage 
which  you  have  not,  that  of  poverty." 


60  IDA   NORMAN. 

"And  pray,"  said  Julia  Selby  with  a  smile,  "what  ad- 
vantage can  there  be  in  poverty?" 

"Not  one  advantage,  but  many,  if  endured  with  a  proper 
spirit,"  said  Laura,  "it  shews  the  world  divested  of  the 
false  lustre  with  which  affluence  surrounds  it.  While  it  pro- 
motes meekness  and  humility,  it  inspires  one  with  self- 
respect.  As  we  see  ourselves  with  nothing  to  recommend  us 
but  our  own  merit,  we  learn  to  place  a  higher  value  upon 
virtue,  depending  on  that  alone  for  respect ;  and  we  become 
accustomed  to  respect  others  in  proportion  as  they  are 
virtuous.  Thus  it  is,  that  I  see  less  cause  to  blush  for 
poverty  than  you  do,  and  would  despise  myself  for  any 
attempt  to  appear  richer  or  less  humble  than  I  am.  But  I 
would  wish  to  save  my  friends  from  mortification  on  my 
account." 

"No  matter  Laura,"  said  Julia,  "you  are  right,  I  see,  and 
I  will  endeavor  to  imitate  your  heroism.  But  to  change 
the  subject,  I  am  quite  troubled  about  Ida  Norman's  not 
being  at  dinner,  and  Mrs.  Newton  has  not  sent  for  me  as  I 
thought  she  would  do,  to  see  her,  since  her  parents  left.  I 
know  Ida  has  strong  passions,  but  am  sure  she  will  learn 
here  to  subdue  them.  Did  you  observe  her  brother?  he  is 
a  great  favorite  of  my  youngest  brother,  Frank,  who  shews 
better  sense  in  his  partiality  for  Louis  Norman  than  in  any 
thing  else.  What  do  you  think  of  Louis  r" 

"I  have  scarcely  thought  of  him  at  all,"  was  the  reply, 
"but  now  you  ask  me,  I  think  a  sister  might  be  proud  of 
such  a  brother." 

"Oh  the  discreet  Laura  Landon !"  exclaimed  Julia,  "al- 
ways furnished  with  the  exact  answer  that  should  be  given. 
But  the  bell  rings  for  school,  let  us  hasten  to  take  our 
places."  The  two  girls  went  quickly  to  the  house,  and 
were  soon  engaged  in  their  respective  duties.  But  Ida 
Norman,  where  was  she,  and  in  what  state  of  mind  ?  This 
subject  we  shall  reserve  for  our  next  chapter. 


IDA   NORMAN.  61 

CHAPTER    IX. 

t-'Mifii'  <•',     ••«.  ••»•••'- si; 'tr''^  cJ3  •,-••,'/.  •"  . <{,-  i 

THE    INWARD    CONFLICT. VICTORY. 

Ix  a  small  apartment,  neat,  but  plainly  furnished,  stood 
Ida  Norman  leaning  against  the  window  casement,  and  gazing 
upon  the  blue  expanse  of  Long  Island  Sound,  sometimes 
watching  the  tiny  bark,  as  it  glided  over  the  waters  and  be- 
came a  mere  speck  in  the  distance ;  at  another  moment 
turning  her  eyes  with  vain  regrets  towards  the  distant  city, 
which,  as  a  map,  lay  spread  out  before  her.  The  last  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  still  lingered  on  land  and  water,  reflected 
from  a  thousand  objects,  which  were  thus  endowed  with 
transient  brilliancy,  but  like  the  things  of  earth  when  gilded 
by  a  glowing  imagination,  to  be  left  in  gloom  and  darkness 
when  no  longer  receiving  the  beauty  and  glory  which,  for 
the  moment,  seem  inherent  in  the  objects  themselves. 

The  storm  of  passion  in  Ida's  soul  had  passed  away ; 
reason  and  reflection  had  shewn  her  the  folly  of  her  con- 
duct, and  she  felt  ashamed  of  the  temper  she  had  exhibited. 
Tears,  bitter  tears  of  repentance,  fell  from  her  eyes.  She 
began  to  feel  conscious  that  hitherto  she  had  been  indulged 
greatly  to  the  injury  of  her  disposition  and  character;  and 
that  she  must  control  her  passions  if  she  would  gain  affec- 
tion and  esteem.  A  gentle  tap  at  the  door  announced  Miss 
Milburn,  who  came,  accompanied  by  a  servant  with  a  tea- 
tray,  which,  having  placed  upon  a  small  table,  the  servant 
retired.  Miss  Milburn  kindly  said,  "Miss  Ida,  you  will 
now,  I  hope,  be  disposed  to  take  some  refreshment;  you 
have  had  a  day  of  great  fatigue  and  excitement,  and  will  be 
sick  unless  you  eat  something." 

Though  inwardly  humble  and  repentant,  the  proud  girl 
was  not  willing  to  appear  so, — but  haughtily  said,  "Who 
6 


62  IDA    NORMAN. 

in  this  house  will  care,  if  I  am  sick  ? — I  have  no  wish  to 
eat  You  can  order  the  servant  to  take  the  tray  out  of 
the  room." 

"Very  well,  Miss,  as  you  please,"  said  Miss  Milburn, 
calling  Nelly,  the  chamber-maid,  to  return  and  take  away 
the  things  she  had  brought.  "I  had  hoped,"  continued 
Miss  Milburn,  "  that  you  had  by  this  time  seen  your  error, 
and  resolved  on  a  different  course  of  conduct.  Mrs.  New- 
ton would  freely  forgive  you  what  is  past,  and  the  pupils  of 
the  school  are  anxious  to  see  you  among  them ;  they  are  to 
dance  this  evening,  and  hoped  you  would  like  to  join  them." 

"I  do  not  ask  Mrs.  Newton  to  forgive  me,"  said  Ida, 
"  and  I  do  not  wish  to  become  acquainted  with  any  of  the 
girls  here;  I  am  not  satisfied,  and  I  want  to  go  home." 

"Miss  Ida,"  said  Miss  Milburn,  with  a  dignity  and  se- 
verity of  manner  which  strongly  contrasted  with  her  youth- 
ful and  gentle  appearance,  "  I  shall  now  leave  you  alone,  for 
the  night.  Tour  trunk  is  here,  and  you  can  doubtless  find 
in  it  your  night-dress,  and  a  plain  calico  or  gingham  dress 
for  to-morrow." 

"  I  shall  not,  Miss  Teacher,  (I  do  not  know  your  name,) 
wear  calico  or  gingham,"  said  Ida,  "all  my  dresses  are  silk 
and  muslin,  made  fashionably,  and  with  full  flounces." 

"Then  Mrs.  Newton  will  order  for  you  such  dresses  as 
she  wishes  her  pupils  to  wear,"  calmly  replied  Miss  Mil- 
burn.  "  But  I  shall  see  you  in  the  morning,  when  I  hope  to 
find  you  in  a  better  state  of  feeling — I  would  recommend 
to  you,  Miss,  since  solitude  has  yet  had  no  effect  upon  your 
mind,  to  improve  this  calm  twilight,  and  the  evening  shades, 
in  searching  your  own  heart,  and  exposing  to  yourself  the 
wicked  and  rebellious  thoughts  which  you  there  harbor. 
As  you  are  doubtless  accustomed  to  read  your  bible  before 
you  go  to  bed,  I  would  advise  you  to  consult  the  fifth  chap- 
ter of  St.  Matthew's  gospel.  Our  Saviour  there  blesses  the 
meek  and  the  poor  in  spirit.  If  you  would  receive  his 


IDA    NORMAN.  63 

blessing,  you  must  possess  the  qualities  which  he  pro- 
nounces blessed." 

"  Read  my  bible,  indeed,"  said  Ida,  "  I  did  not  suppose 
this  was  a  Sunday  School ;  I  have  brought  no  bible ;  I 
scarcely  think  mama  has  a  bible  in  the  house."  "  And  you 
have  come  from  home  with  silks  and  muslins,  but  without 
a  bible !"  exclaimed  Miss  Milburn, — adding  in  a  low  tone, 
"Poor  childl  what  better  could  be  expected  of  her?"  Miss 
Milburn  left  the  room,  but  soon  returned  with  a  small  pocket 
bible.  "  I  leave  you,"  said  she,  "  with  this  companion ; 
you  will  find  some  places  marked,  I  hope  you  will  not  fail 
to  read  them  and  to  ask  forgiveness  of  your  Father  in  heaven 
for  your  bad  temper,  and  that  he  will  give  you  strength  to 
subdue  your  proud  spirit; — I  must  now  bid  you  good  night." 

As  she  passed  to  the  door,  Ida  started,  and  advanced  to- 
wards her;  she  would  have  fallen  on  Miss  Milburn's  neck 
and  acknowledged  her  sense  of  her  own  misconduct,  but 
pride  restrained  her — she,  however,  said,  in  a  tone  some- 
what subdued,  "  will  you  let  Laura  Landon  come  and  stay 
with  me  to-night  ?"  "  I  dare  say  Mrs.  Newton  will  be  quite 
willing,  but  I  will  speak  to  her  about  it,"  replied  Miss  Mil- 
burn,  and  left  the  room.  A  knock  at  the  door  was  followed 
by  a  gentle  voice ; — u  May  I  come  in  ?"  said  Laura  Lan- 
don ; — Ida  sprang  forward,  and  throwing  her  arms  around 
her  neck  burst  into  tears. 

Mrs.  Newton  was  pleased  with  Ida's  request  for  Laura 
Landon  to  stay  with  her ;  she  believed  the  good  sense  and 
piety  of  Laura,  combined  with  her  gentle  and  amiable  man- 
ners, would  help  to  soften  the  feelings  of  the  haughty  and 
obstinate  Ida.  The  event  proved  that  she  judged  rightly. 

The  child  of  poverty  and  affliction,  purified  by  trials,  ele- 
vated in  her  objects  and  desires,  was  lovely  in  her  meek- 
ness, and  noble  in  her  devotion  to  duty.  In  her  sweet 
countenance  shone  forth  the  serene  beauty  of  a  meek  and 
quiet  spirit,  and  the  loveliness  of  virtue.  By  her  side  sat 


64  IDA    NORMAN. 

the  pampered  child  of  fortune,  whose  life  had  been  one  of 
ease  and  indulgence ;  her  eyes  were  red  and  inflamed,  her 
cheeks  swollen  and  almost  livid  from  the  influence  of  strong 
passions,  and  her  whole  frame  trembling  and  agitated.  Such 
was  the  tableau  presented  in  that  apartment.  Which  of  the 
two,  would  my  young  readers  wish  to  resemble,  the  meek 
and  humble  Laura,  or  the  imperious  and  ungovernable  Ida  ? 
Would  you  not  say,  "  let  my  condition  in  life  be  such  as 
would  most  tend  to  render  me  good,  rather  than  one  which 
would  foster  my  bad  passions  ?" 

Ida  sobbed,  for  some  time,  without  speaking.  Laura  held 
her  hand  and  remained  silent,  thinking  it  most  judicious  to 
wait  until  the  agitation  of  feeling  was  over,  and  let  Ida  take 
her  own  way.  Gradually  she  became  calm,  as  she  looked 
at  Laura  and  saw  the  tear  of  sympathy  glistening  in  her  eye, 
and  observed  the  gentle  expression  of  her  countenance.  "  In- 
deed," said  Ida,  "I  do  feel  ashamed  of  myself  to  have  made 
such  an  appearance  here,  on  my  very  first  day  ; — but,  some- 
how, it  seemed  as  if  I  could  not  stay  among  all  strangers, 
and  I  am  not  accustomed  to  restrain  my  feelings;  I  did  not 
suppose,"  continued  she,  "  that  Mrs.  Newton  would  have 
dared  to  treat  me  in  this  way.  WThen  at  home,  if  I  quar- 
relled with  my  governess,  mama  always  took  my  part,  and 
changed  the  governess  whenever  she  offended  me.  I  think 
Mrs.  Newton  is  a  very  cold,  unfeeling  woman,  though  at 
first  I  imagined  I  should  like  her,  for  she  seemed  affection- 
ate ;  but  as  soon  as  I  was  left  alone,  she  began  to  tyranize 
over  me.  Just  to  think  of  it,  on  my  very  first  day  in  school, 
I  have  been  shut  up,  treated  like  a  criminal,  and  disgraced 
in  the  eyes  of  all  the  girls;  for  I  dare  say  every  one 
knows  of  it.  I  know  my  mother  will  never  submit  to  this, 
and  she  will  take  me  away  from  this  place,  as  soon  as  she 
hears  how  I  have  been  treated." 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  be  taken  away;"  said  Laura,  "do 


IDA     NORMAN.  65 

you  not  think  it  would  be  best  for  you  to  be  where  you 
will  be  taught  self-government?" 

"  I'm  not  accustomed  to  think  in  this  way,"  said  Ida ;  "  it 
will  be  very  hard  for  me  to  learn  self-government.  I  am 
sure  my  mother  has  not  thought  it  necessary  I  should  be 
governed ;  and  what  she  has  not  attempted,  I  do  not  think 
others  have  any  right  to  do,"  and  again  Ida  began  to  sob. 
Laura  remained  silent. 

Twilight  passed  away,  and  the  dark  shades  of  evening 
enshrouded  the  earth ;  the  waves,  as  they  dashed  onward 
and  broke  upon  the  beach,  seemed  to  Laura  emblematical 
of  the  strife  of  human  passions,  and  the  folly  of  combatting 
with  circumstances  which  cannot  be  changed,  or  which  it 
would  be  unwise  to  change  if  it  were  possible ; — "  But  it 
would  be  as  useless  to  reason  with  this  poor  girl,"  thought 
she,  "  as  to  attempt  to  reason  with  the  waves  of  the  sea. 
He  who  calmeth  the  strife  of  waters,  can  alone  speak  peace 
to  this  troubled  spirit;" — and  to  Him,  in  the  depth  of  her 
heart,  did  she  commend  her. 

Laura  stepped  quietly  about  the  chamber  arranging  things 
for  the  night.  "  Shall  I  assist  you,  my  dear,  to  undress," 
said  she  to  Ida,  in  a  sweet  soothing  tone ;  "  you  will  be 
quite  ill  to-morrow  unless  you  get  some  rest.  Come,  take 
off  your  dress,  and  bathe  your  face  in  this  fresh,  cool 
water ;  and  please  give  me  your  key,  and  I  will  take  your 
night-dress  out  of  your  trunk." 

Ida  handed  her  reticule  which  contained  her  key,  thrown 
loosely  among  candies,  and  a  quantity  of  gold  pieces  which 
her  mother  had  given  her  at  parting;  "You  will  find  some 
night-gowns  near  the  top  of  that  large  trunk,"  said  she. 

Laura  opened  the  trunk,  and  the  clothing  made  by  her 
mother,  exquisite  in  fineness,  and  the  finish  of  the  work  met 
her  view.  For  a  moment  she  was  agitated ;  for  she  knew 
the  articles,  as  in  her  visits  home  she  had  seen  her  mother 
engaged  in  working  upon  them. 
6* 


66  IDA    KORMAN. 

Taking  up  an  embroidered  cap,  and  an  elegantly  finished 
night-dress,  Laura  pressed  them  to  her  bosom,  before  giving 
them  to  Ida;  but  recollecting  herself,  she  explained  the 
cause  of  what  might  seem  so  strange  an  act;  "My  dear 
mother's  hands  made  these  things,"  said  Laura ;  "  but  I  was 
not  near  to  help  her,  and  it  must  be  so  hard  for  her  to  have 
to  do  every  thing  alone." 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss  Norman,  but  my  dear  mother  has  made 
such  great  sacrifices  that  I  may  come  to  school !  I  cannot 
but  weep  when  I  think  of  it ; — the  sight  of  these  things  has 
brought  to  my  mind  so  many  thoughts  of  her ;  Oh  you  do 
not  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  widowed  mother,  and  so  deli- 
cate, too,  as  mine,  obliged  to  labor  for  support." 

Ida  looked  at  Laura  with  mingled  emotions  of  pity  and 
admiration.  The  generous  sympathies  of  her  soul  were 
touched.  "  If,"  said  she,  "  my  mother  had  been  a  seam- 
stress, she  might  have  brought  me  up  differently,  and  not 
indulged  me  so  much,  and  I  should,  then,  have  behaved 
better  to  day.  But  Laura,  I  do  love  your  mother  very 
much;  I  have  always  thought  a  great  deal  of  her,  ever 
since  mama  took  me  to  your  house  to  carry  the  worsted  for 
my  zephyr  polka ;  and  I  love  you  too,  dear  Laura,  and  was 
so  glad  when  I  heard  you  were"  here.  I  know,  of  course, 
now,  that  Mrs.  Newton,  and  the  teachers  will  always  dis- 
like me,  for  I  have  offended  them  all  so  much ;  but  if  you 
will  be  my  friend,  I  shall  not  feel  quite  forsaken." 

"You  little  know  Mrs.  Newton,  dear  Ida,"  replied  Laura, 
"  if  you  think  she  will  not  forgive  what  has  taken  place  to- 
day. Should  she  see  in  the  morning  that  you  are  peni- 
tent, she  will  be  very  happy.  I  have  sometimes  thought, 
she  really  loves  those  who  have  given  her  some  trouble, 
when  they  become  good  and  obedient,  better  than  if  they 
had  never  done  wrong.  You  know  the  bible  says,  '  there 
is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth.'  " 

Ida  was  not  pleased  to  hear  about  penitence ;  her  heart 


IDA    NORMAN.  07 

was  not  wholly  subdued,  and  the  least  opposition  would 
have  brought  on  another  paroxysm  of  passion ; — Laura 
Landon  seemed,  intuitively,  to  understand  this,  and  taking 
up  the  bible  which  Miss  Milburn  had  left,  she  said,  "And 
now  my  dear  Ida,  (if  you  will  permit  me  to  call  you  so,) 
let  us  read  together  in  this  holy  book,  and  then  compose 
our  minds  to  rest." 

Ida's  heart  became  softened ;  the  tears  flowed,  and  they 
were  no  longer  tears  of  anger,  but  of  penitence  and  humili- 
ation. She  nestled  close  to  Laura,  and  resting  her  head  on 
her  shoulder  with  one  arm  thrown  around  her  neck,  listen- 
ed for  the  first  time  with  attention  and  feeling,  to  the  word 
of  God;  as  in  a  low  and  sweet  voice,  her  young  mentor  read, 
from  the  69th  Psalm,  "  Save  me  O  God,  for  the  waters  are 
come  in  unto  my  soul ;  I  sink  in  deep  mire,  where  there  is 
no  standing.  I  am  weary  of  my  crying,  my  throat  is  dried ; 
mine  eyes  fail  while  I  wait  for  my  God.  God  thou  knowest 
my  foolishness,  and  my  sin  is  not  hid  from  Thee.  But  as 
for  me,  my  prayer  is  unto  Thee,  Oh  Lord,  in  an  acceptable 
time ;  oh  God !  in  the  multitude  of  thy  mercies  hear  me !" 
Many  other  comforting  texts  did  Laura  Landon  read  to 
soothe  the  disturbed  feelings  of  Ida;  and  then  she  said, 
"  Let  us  kneel  down,  and  pray  that  God  will  forgive  us  the 
sins  of  the  past  day,  keep  us  in  safety  through  the  night, 
and,  after  the  scenes  of  this  life  shall  be  ended,  that  he 
will  receive  us  unto  himself."  "  Humble  as  a  little  child," 
Ida  obeyed ;  and  the  two  young  girls  knelt  side  by  side. 
For  the  space  of  some  minutes,  there  was  silence  in  that 
apartment  as  the  presence  of  God  was  invoked,  and  hearts 
laid  bare  before  Him. 

To  Ida  this  was  a  new  page  in  life;  she  had  supposed  re- 
ligion was  only  for  the  church,  and  Sundays  ;  but  here,  it  had 
been  brought  up  to  convince  her  of  her  own  sin  ;  it  had  met 
her  in  her  bed-chamber,  and  spoken  to  her  familiarly ;  she 
had  knelt  in  prayer  beside  one  scarcely  older  than  herself; — 


68  IDA    NORMAN. 

and  she,  too,  had  tried  to  pray,  but  her  heart  was  unused  to 
the  exercise,  and  her  spirit,  though  calmed  and  subdued, 
had  not  learned  to  elevate  itself  on  the  wings  of  devotion. 
Yet  for  Ida,  it  was  much  to  have  felt  a  desire  to  pray,  and 
she  lay  down  to  rest  composed,  and  happy  in  the  belief 
that  she  might  be  forgiven  her  offences. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IDA    NORMAN    BEGINS    A    NEW   DAY. DIFFICULTIES. HER 

STUDIES. DEPARTURE    OF    HER    PARENTS. EXTRAVA- 
GANCE. 

THE  next  morning,  at  breakfast,  Sally  Pry  and  Maria 
Crump  were  gratified  by  seeing  the  stranger  enter  the  din- 
ing hall,  though  much  surprised  that  she  came  in  with 
Laura  Landon.  Ida,  by  Laura's  advice,  had  arisen  early,  and 
written  to  Mrs.  Newton  to  ask  pardon  for  her  bad  behaviour, 
and  to  be  restored  to  her  favor,  expressing  her  wish  to  con- 
form to  all  the  rules  of  the  school,  and  her  desire  to  be 
directed  in  the  path  of  duty.  Mrs.  Newton  freely  granted 
her  forgiveness ;  and  seeing  the  excellent  influence  which 
Laura  Landon  had  over  Ida's  mind,  she  readily  granted  the 
request  of  the  latter,  that  she  might  have  Laura  for  her 
room  mate,  instead  of  being  placed  under  the  care  of  a 
teacher. 

Shall  we  now  suppose  that  Ida's  trials  are  all  over  ?  alas, 
life  has  many  a  thorny  path  and  steep  acclivity;  many  a 
gloomy  valley  and  tangled  copse,  where  one  difficulty  over- 
come, another  appears  in  its  place !  and  ever  must  it  be  so, 
in  this  imperfect  state  of  existence,  where,  by  trial,  the  soul 
is  made  fit  for  a  state  of  purity  and  perfect  happiness. 


IDA    NORMAN.  69 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Norman  called  once,  but  had  scarcely 
more  than  time  to  bid  their  daughter  adieu.  Mr.  Norman 
was  pleased  to  observe  in  her,  the  evidences  of  a  growing 
confidence  in  Mrs.  Newton,  to  whose  care  he  again  solemnly 
committed  her.  Mrs.  Norman  was  desirous  of  speaking 
alone  with  Ida,  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  her  accommo- 
dations, and  whether  she  was  treated  with  the  consideration 
due  to  her  rank ;  but  her  husband,  purposely,  hurried  her 
away,  suspecting  what  might  be  the  nature  and  tendency  of 
any  private  communications  with  her  daughter. 

Mrs.  Norman  was  surprised  to  find  Ida  so  calm,  and  ready 
to  acquiesce  in  the  arrangements  made  for  her.  She  had 
entertained  a  secret  belief,  and  even  hope,  that  at  the  last, 
Ida  would  refuse  to  be  left  behind,  and  they  should  there- 
fore be  obliged  to  take  her  abroad  with  them.  She  had 
felt  much  displeased  with  the  deference  shewn  by  her  hus- 
band to  Mrs.  Newton's  opinions,  and  that  he  had  given  to 
that  lady  such  unlimited  power  over  her  child ;  and  she 
would  have  been  glad  of  some  pretext  to  take  Ida  away. 
It  was,  therefore,  with  surprise,  if  not  disappointment,  that 
Mrs.  Norman  saw  her  daughter  submitting,  with  cheerful- 
ness, to  her  situation ; — but  her  own  better  feelings  came  to 
her  aid,  when  she  reflected  that  this  was  an  evidence  that 
Ida  felt  herself  to  be  among  friends,  and  was  doing  well, 
under  the  discipline  to  which  she  was  subjected. 

After  Ida's  parents  had  taken  their  final  leave,  she  was  put 
upon  a  systematic  course  of  study.  Finding  that  her  Eng- 
lish education  had  been  superficial,  Mrs.  Newton  classed  her, 
at  first,  in  the  simplest  elementary  branches.  This  was  very 
mortifying  to  Ida,  and  very  nearly  caused  her  to  fall  into 
another  paroxysm  of  passion.  The  poor  girl  had  indeed 
every  thing  to  learn,  and  much  to  unlearn ;  and  her  haughty 
spirit  was  continually  bringing  her  into  difficulties.  Her 
two  friends,  Laura  Landon  and  Julia  Selby,  watched  over 
her,  and  kept  her  often  from  going  astray,  or,  when  in  trou- 


70  IDA   NORMAN. 

ble  from  her  own  faults,  they  helped  her  to  return  to  the 
straight  and  narrow  path  of  duty. 

Among  Ida's  other  faults  was  that  of  extravagance.  She 
had  no  idea  of  the  value  of  money  •,  her  gold  coins  were 
carelessly  thrown  about,  given  away  or  expended,  with  no 
idea  of  the  possibility  that  a  time  might  come,  when  she 
would  have  gold  in  less  profusion. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

UNEXPECTED    AND    GLOOMY    CHANGES. 

TIME  passed  with  rapid  flight,  and  as  it  moved,  a  change 
came  over  the  prospects  of  Louis  and  Ida  Norman.  The 
storm  which  their  father  had  seen  gathering  in  the  distance, 
at  length  burst  upon  his  family. 

For  some  time  after  Mr.  Norman's  departure,  he  wrote 
often  to  his  children,  and  occasionally  made  remittances  for 
their  benefit; — at  length,  he  ceased  to  furnish  with  means 
those  who  had  the  care  of  their  education ;  and  finally,  to 
interest  himself  in  the  welfare  of  his  children,  as  appeared 
from  his  failing  to  transmit  to  them  any  intelligence  of  his 
movements. 

Rumor  had  whispered  that  his  affairs  were  embarrassed, 
and  that  the  property  which  he  had  left  in  America,  had 
been  seized  by  his  creditors.  News  then  came  that  Mrs. 
Norman  had  died  broken  hearted ; — and  it  was  hinted  that 
Mr.  Norman  had  become  dissolute  in  his  habits. 

Mrs.  Newton  had  begun,  early,  to  give  Ida  lessons  of 
care  and  economy ;  but  these  were,  at  first,  despised.  "  What 
would  mama  say  if  she  were  to  see  me  dressed  in  such  com- 
mon, unfashionable  garments?"  would  often  suggest  itself 


IDA    NORMAN.  71 

to  her  mind.  "  I  shall  have  a  fortune,"  would  she  think, 
"  and  why  should  I  be  restricted  in  my  expenses  ?"  Ida 
was  generous ;  and  while  she  had  abundance  she  often 
urged  upon  Laura  Landon  the  acceptance  of  rich  presents, 
which,  however,  Laura  always  declined. 

Long  after  Mrs.  Newton  had  ceased  to  receive  remittances 
from  Mr.  Norman,  she  continued  to  supply  Ida  from  her 
own  funds;  but  feeling  that  it  would  soon  become  necessary 
for  her  to  know  her  real  situation,  she,  gradually,  prepared 
her  mind  to  receive  the  intelligence.  She  spoke  to  her  of  the 
importance  of  education  to  females,  as  a  profession  ; — of  the 
case  of  Laura  Landon,  who  was  acquiring  her  own  educa- 
tion, with  the  expectation  of  making  it  available  for  her  fu- 
ture support.  Ida  would  listen  attentively,  for  she  had 
learned  to  love  Mrs.  Newton,  and  to  consider  her  words, 
as  words  of  wisdom ;  but  she  wondered  why  Mrs.  Newton 
should  speak  to  her  of  these  things,  when  her  prospects  in 
life  were  so  very  different  from  those  of  Laura. 

Louis  had  made  great  advances  in  his  scholastic  pur- 
suits;— and,  thanks  to  Mrs.  Newton's  care  and  advice,  he 
had  advanced  equally  in  moral  developments.  In  his  school, 
no  attention  was  paid  to  moral  culture.  The  boys  were  not 
taught  that  they  had  souls,  this  being  considered  as  no 
part  of  a  fashionable  education. 

Ida  had  observed  in  his  late  visits,  that  Louis  seemed  less 
cheerful  than  usual,  and  spoke  less  of  their  parents.  Intel- 
ligence of  the  death  of  their  mother  had  been  received  in  a 
brief  and  incoherent  letter  from  Mr.  Norman  to  his  children. 
Though  aware  of  their  mother's  weakness  of  character,  Louis 
and  Ida  remembered  only  her  kindness  and  devoted  love; 
they  mingled  bitter  tears  of  grief  for  her,  and  spake  freely 
together,  of  their  father's  short  and  singular  epistle,  and  the 
little  interest  he  evinced  in  their  welfare.  Ida's  garb  of  deep 
mourning  was  but  an  index  of  the  grief  she  felt  for  her 
mother's  loss,  mingled  with  the  more  bitter  feeling  of  ne- 
glect from  her  surviving  parent. 


72  IDA    NORMAN. 

CHAPTER    XII. 

GOSSIPING,   AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES. 

SOME  months  after  Ida  had  heard  of  the  death  of  her 
mother,  as  she  was,  one  day,  sitting  in  a  recess  behind  a 
screen,  engaged  in  study,  in  a  room  used  by  the  pupils  as 
a  common  parlor,  her  attention  \vas  attracted  by  hearing 
her  name  mentioned,  and  she  heard  the  following  dialogue : 

"  Why,  how  you  do  talk,  Sally  Pry,"  said  Maria  Crump, 
"  how  do  you  know  Mr.  Norman  is  discharged  from  office, 
and  become  a  vagabond  ?" 

"Do'nttalk  so  loud,  you  goose!1'  said  the  amiable  Sally, 
"  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it ;  as  you  are  always  good  to 
tell  me  what  you  hear." 

"  Yes  indeed  I  am,"  said  Maria;  "  I  often  find  out  things, 
on  purpose  to  tell  you ;  for  it  seems  to  do  you  so  much  good 
to  hear  news,  especially  if  it  is  against  folks.  But  pray,  tell 
me  all  about  this,  for  I  am  crazy  to  hear.  I  always  thought 
that  proud  Ida  Norman  would  have  a  fall  yet." 

"  Fall  indeed,"  said  Sally,  u  I  guess  it  is  a  fall." 

"Well,  do  tell  me  how  you  heard  this,"  said  Maria, 
"and  what  else  you  know." 

Poor  Ida  was  ready  to  faint; — she  thought  it  wrong  to 
listen ;  but  was  so  much  affected  by  the  conversation  as 
scarcely  to  be  able  to  move. 

"You  know,  Maria,"  said  Sally,  in  a  whisper,  yet  per- 
fectly audible  to  Ida,  "  that  window-seat  in  the  room  next 
to  Mrs.  Newton's,  where  one  can  sit  behind  the  curtain  with- 
out being  observed; — well,  this  morning,  I  was  going  to 
Mrs.  Newton  to  ask  her  about  going  home  in  vacation ;  and  as 
her  door  was  open,  and  I  heard  her  talking  very  earnestly 
to  Miss  Wentworth,  I  thought  there  would  be  no  harm  in  lis- 


IDA    NORMAN.  73 

tening;  and  so  I  just  stepped  behind  the  curtain  where  I 
could  hear  every  word,  just  as  plain  as  day." 

"And  were  they  talking  about  Ida  Norman's  father,"  said 
Maria. 

"They  were  so ;  and  I  heard  Mrs.  Newton  say,  '  what  a 
pity  that  a  man  like  Mr.  Norman  should  have  fallen  into  bad 
habits ;  and  that  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  children, 
for  she  had  not,  for  a  year,  received  any  letters  from  him ; 
and  that  he  had  not,  for  a  long  time,  made  any  remittances 
for  his  daughter.' " 

"  Goodness  gracious !"  said  Maria,  "just  think !  and  Mrs. 
Newton  has  bought  Ida  Norman  all  those  nice,  black 
dresses  she  has  had,  out  of  her  own  money.  I  wonder  she 
did  not  send  her  home,  long  ago !" 

"Send  her  home!  Why  she  has  no  home  to  go  to," 
said  Sally ;  "  but  she  will  have  to  come  down,  any  how,  for 
I  don't  believe  Mrs.  Newton  will  support  her  like  a  lady, 
any  longer.  But  I  have  not  told  you  the  worst  of  the  story, 
yet.  Miss  Wentworth  asked  Mrs.  Newton,  if  she  thought  it 
possible,  Mr.  Norman  had  married  a  low,  foreign  woman, 
of  doubtful  character; — 1  remember  the  very  words  of  Mrs. 
Newton's  answer.  She  drew  a  long  sigh,  and  said,  'that  dis- 
grace is  the  worst  of  all.  The  report  is  true,  too  true;  I  have 
heard  all  the  particulars  from  Mrs.  Livingston,  who  has  just 
returned  from  abroad,  and  saw  Mr.  Norman  at  Florence.' " 

"Hush!  what  noise  was  that?"  said  Sally. — They  both 
ran,  and  beheld  Ida  Norman  lying  senseless  on  the  floor. 


74  IDA    NORMAN. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

PROPER    EDUCATION    FOR  AMERICAN  BOYS. PATRIOTISM. 

LOUIS    NORMAN    AT    SCHOOL. 

THE  school  where  Louis  Norman  had  been  placed,  was 
highly  aristocratic  and  exclusive.  The  principal,  a  foreigner, 
made  pretensions  to  high  birth ;  and  it  was  even  whispered 
by  his  patrons,  that  the  blood  of  royalty  flowed  in  his  veins. 
Bourbon  Hall,  of  all  the  schools  in  New  York,  was  at  one 
particular  time,  the  favorite  of  those  who  affected  to  be  sepa- 
rated by  rank,  from  whatever  cause  derived,  from  the  com- 
mon class.  Of  all  methods  to  render  boys  fitted  for  fu- 
ture success  in  life,  in  a  republican  country,  where  men 
mingle  together  with  no  acknowledged  hereditary  distinc- 
tions, an  exclusive  education  is  one  of  the  worst.  The 
American  who  goes  forth  into  life  encumbered  with  ideas  of 
his  own  consequence,  is  liable  at  every  step  to  meet  with 
contempt  and  ridicule.  The  genius  of  our  government,  as 
well  as  the  public  taste,  is  opposed  to  such  pretensions. 
Thus  we  find  the  cunning  politician  affecting  republican  feel- 
ings, in  order  to  gain  the  suffrages  of  the  people ;  while  the 
man  of  real  worth  may  not  be  popular,  because  he  will  not 
affect  what  he  does  not  feel ;  that  is,  an  equality  with  the 
common  classes ; — the  prejudices  of  education  and  the  chains 
of  habit,  separate  him  from  the  sympathies  of  his  fellow- 
citizens. 

But  is  it  necessary  for  a  man  to  play  the  hypocrite,  in 
order  to  gain  the  good  will  of  the  mass  of  the  community  ? 
Let  American  boys  be  taught  to  love  their  country,  to  revere 
its  republican  institutions,  to  understand  the  principles  and  ge- 
nius of  its  government,  and  they  will  be,  truly,  patriotic.  They 
will  see  in  each  member  of  society,  an  American  sovereign  ; 


IDA   NORMAN.  75 

no  matter  how  humble  may  be  his  occupation,  how  common 
his  dress,  how  unpolished  his  address,  he  will  be  viewed  as 
a  constituent  member  of  the  body  politic,  filling  his  place  in 
the  political  organism,  and  bearing  his  share  of  political 
accountability.  With  such  views  and  feelings,  how  natural 
would  be  the  desire  to  benefit  the  community  at  large,  by 
improving  common  education ;  and  by  giving  to  those  who 
possess  so  noble  a  birth-right,  the  intellectual  and  moral  cul- 
ture which  would  lead  them  to  the  knowledge  and  practice 
of  their  social  aad  relative  duties. 

Louis  Norman  had  not  imbibed  the  lessons  of  pride  and 
hauteur  which  had  been  given  him  by  his  mother,  nor  had  he 
learned  duplicity  by  the  political  manoeuvring  of  his  fa- 
ther;— though,  young  as  he  was,  he  had  noticed  much  to 
convince  him  that  his  father's  feelings  were,  often,  greatly  at 
variance  with  his  actions.  Children,  sometimes,  exhibit  traits 
of  character  entirely  opposite  to  those  which  marked  the 
parents,  avoiding,  especially,  what  is  most  faulty  in  them. 
Louis  Norman  was  too  noble  and  ingenuous  by  nature  to 
be  spoiled  by  the  bad  education  of  his  childhood,  or  the 
unfavorable  influences  which  had  surrounded  it.  And  when 
he  found  himself  placed  among  boys  of  his  own  age,  who 
were  imperious  towards  those  whom  they  considered  their 
inferiors,  jealous  of  their  equals,  and  servile  to  their  supe- 
riors, he  was  more  than  ever  determined  not  to  set  too  high 
a  value  on  those  things  which  money  can  purchase,  nor 
pride  himself  upon  any  extrinsic  advantages. 

In  reflecting  upon  his  future  course  in  life,  Louis  resolved 
upon  pursuing  that,  which  with  all  the  assistance  he  could 
gain  from  books,  and  from  the  experience  of  the  good  and 
wise,  might  appear  best  calculated  to  render  him  useful,  and 
to  improve  his  highest  and  noblest  faculties.  "The  gifts  of 
intellect,"  said  he  within  himself,  "  are  those  which  truly 
elevate  and  enrich  man.  I  will  strive  to  attain  these  ;  and  I 
will  seek  that  station  in  life,  which  will  be  most  favorable  for 


76  IDA   NORMAN. 

the  cultivation  of  my  moral  nature^  and  will  least  endanger 
my  principles.  Above  all,  I  will  never  be  a  dependent  on 
popular  favor." 

To  the  son  of  a  great  statesman  and,  withal,  a  minister  to  a 
foreign  court,  the  school  boys,  even  among  exclusives,  paid 
their  homage ;  and  each  strove  to  attach  Louis  to  himself. 
His  high  and  noble  bearing,  the  beaming  of  intelligence 
which  illumined  his  features,  and  a  refined  and  graceful 
manner,  rendered  Louis  Norman  conspicuous  among  his 
companions.  Kind  and  obliging  to  all,  he  formed  no  inti- 
macies ;  though  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  possessed  a  fund 
of  warm  and  generous  feeling,  and,  naturally,  a  buoyant 
spirit.  He  did,  indeed,  often  join  in  the  sports  of  his  com- 
panions, but  even  then,  he  seemed  thoughtful  and  contem- 
plative. 

In  the  ambitious  career  of  his  father,  Louis,  though  young, 
had  seen  a  want  of  true  patriotism.  The  domestic  atmos- 
phere of  his  early  home  had  been  chilling;  though  every 
luxury  which  wealth  could  purchase,  had  been  lavished  to 
render  it  the  abode  of  happiness.  Louis  was  not  able  to 
understand,  why  these  things  should  be.  He  regarded  his 
father  with  respect,  and  awe;  and  he  felt  for  his  mother  the 
greater  tenderness  because  he  perceived,  that  with  all  her 
luxuries,  and  the  gratification  of  her  ambition  and  taste  for 
display,  she  was  not  happy.  The  mind  of  Louis  was 
quick  and  penetrating ; — he  had  seen  evidences  of  his  father 
being  at  times  embarrassed  for  funds,  and  the  thought 
would  often  rise  unbidden  to  his  soul,  that  the  apparent 
prosperity  of  the  family  might  be  founded  upon  an  un- 
sound basis.  With  such  an  impression,  and  with  gloomy 
forebodings,  as  to  the  future,  he  had  parted  from  his  parents. 
It  might  have  been  a  consciousness,  that  his  situation, 
was  not  what  it  seemed  to  be,  that  rendered  Louis  Nor- 
man shy  of  his  young  companions,  and  gave  him  an  air  of 
reserve.  He  had  pursued  his  studies  with  ardor,  finding 


IDA    NORMAN. 


77 


in  them  a  relief  from  painful  anticipations,  and  food  for 
an  active  mind  of  high  endowments  and  aspirations.  "  Let 
come  what  will,"  thought  Louis,  "I  cannot  be  deprived 
of  my  faculties ;  I  have  health  and  strength,  with  mental 
energies  to  plan,  and  to  execute ;  I  would  rather  enter  upon 
life,  and  its  business,  depending  on  these,  alone,  for  success, 
than  under  the  patronage  of  the  great.  I  have  seen  too 
much  of  sycophancy,  paralysing,  as  it  does,  all  the  better 
feelings  of  the  soul.  Oh  my  father !  dearly  hast  thou  pur- 
chased a  transient  popularity  and  triumph,  by  the  sacrifice 
of  independence ;  and,  alas  !  I  fear,  of  self-respect !" 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  Louis  Norman  penetrated  far- 
ther into  the  character  and  situation  of  his  father,  than  would 
be  natural  for  a  boy  of  his  age.  Children  begin,  very  early, 
to  scrutinise  the  sentiments  and  actions  of  their  parents ; — 
and  an  intelligent  lad  has  many  opportunities  of  commenting 
on  the  associations  and  pursuits  of  a  father,  with  whom,  he 
is  in  constant  intercourse.  He  hears  conversations',  notes  the 
sentiments  uttered  by  his  father,  and  compares  what  he 
hears  said,  to  one  person  and  on  one  occasion,  with  what  is 
said  to  another,  or  on  another  occasion ; — and,  if  the  senti- 
ments of  many  a  child  respecting  a  parent,  were  to  be  ex- 
pressed, we  might  hear  the  sentence,  "Thou  art  weighed 
in  the  balance  and  found  wanting  P' 


78  »  IDA    NORMAN. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

LOUIS     NORMAN     MEETS     WITH    WILLIAM     LANDON. THEIR 

CONVERSATION. 

THE  Saturdays  and  Sundays  of  Louis  Norman  were  often 
spent  at  Science  Hall.  His  most  intimate  and  confidential 
friend,  next  his  sister,  was  Mrs.  Newton,  in  whose  society, 
far  more  than  with  those  of  his  own  age,  his  feelings  were 
drawn  forth.  It  was  here,  that  his  religious  sentiments  were 
fostered,  and  matured ;  it  was  here,  that  he  learned  to  wor- 
ship God,  in  "spirit  and  in  truth." 

As  Louis,  on  a  leisure  Saturday,  was  taking  his  accus- 
tomed walk  towards  Science  Hall,  he  perceived,  a  little  in 
advance,  a  youth  near  his  own  age,  walking  rather  fast,  and 
carrying  a  bundle  in  his  hand.  Something  in  his  look  and 
manner,  attracted  the  attention  of  Louis,  who  hastened  his 
pace,  until  he  came  up  with  the  stranger. 

"You  look  fatigued,"  said  he,  "  let  me  carry  your  bundle, 
for  the  day  is  very  warm."  The  stranger  looked  at  Louis 
with  surprise,  and  a  deep  blush  suffused  his  countenance. 
"  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  offer,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  which 
thrilled  upon  the  ear  of  Louis,  "but  I  am  doubtless,  more 
accustomed  to  carry  burthens  than  you  are,  Mr.  Norman, 
and  I  cannot  think  of  accepting  your  offer." 

"  Then  you  know  me,"  said  Louis,  smiling ;  "  well,  I  was 
sure  1  had  seen  you,  before,  but  I  do  not  know,  where ; — 
do  you  live  in  the  city  ?" 

" Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  "I  am  a  clerk  in  Mr.  Selby's 
store,  in  Broadway." 

"  But  I  have  never  been  in  that  store,  that  I  recollect," 
said  Louis. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  the  stranger,  hesitating,  "but  you 


IDA    NORMAN.  79 

have  called  with  your  mother  and  sister  at  Mrs.  Landon's,  in 

street,  where  plain  sewing  was  done  for  them ;  and  I 

have,  since,  often  seen  you,  with  the  other  pupils  of  Bour- 
bon Hall." 

"And  you  are,  then,  William  Landon,  the  brother  of  Lau- 
ra !  How  proud  must  you  be  of  such  a  sister !"  Louis 
blushed  at  the  enthusiasm  of  his  manner,  and  to  turn  the 
discourse,  said,  "  My  sister  Ida  has  often  spoken  of  you ; 
she  never  forgot  you,  after  she  took  a  fancy  to  a  white  kit- 
ten of  yours,  and  brought  it  home." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Willie,  "  Miss  Ida's  mischief, 
in  putting  the  kitten  into  my  cap,  and  how  she  laughed  at 
my  confusion.  In  compliance  with  her  request,  I  put  kitty 
into  the  carriage  for  her  to  take  home;  but  I  fear  the  poor 
thing  was  soon  neglected  and  forgotten  by  her  young 
mistress." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken,"  said  Louis,  "she  petted  her 
kitten  very  much ;  and  when  she  left  home  for  school,  begged 
hard  to  be  permitted  to  take  it  with  her.  On  being  told 
this  would  not  be  allowed,  she  engaged  one  of  our  former 
servants,  who  kept  house  in  the  city,  to  board  her,  and  has 
often  enjoined  upon  me  to  go  and  inquire  after  her  wel- 
fare;— she  is  no  longer  kitty,  but  a  grave  and  matronly  puss. 

"And  you  are,  indeed,  Laura  Landon's  brother?"  said 
Louis,  with  earnestness; — "yes,  I,  now,  see  the  resem- 
blance, though,  at  first,  I  could  scarcely  tell  why  I  wished 
to  speak  with  you;  your  voice  too,  seemed  familiar." 
Louis  again  seemed  confused  that  he  had  .spoken  so 
earnestly; — but  added,  in  a  low  tone,  "your  sister  is  as 
good,  as  she  is  beautiful." 

"She  is  good,  certainly,"  said  Willie,  "but  I  do  not 
wish  to  think  she  is  beautiful;  there  is  great  danger  in 
beauty,  especially  when  united  with  poverty."  As  he  said 
this,  Louis  perceived  the  shade  of  sadness,  which  he  had 
before  noticed  in  the  countenance  of  Willie,  become  deeper, 
and  feelings  of  sympathy  and  affection  for  him,  sprung  up  in 


80  IDA    NORMAN. 

his  heart.  He  had  turned  away,  in  disgust,  from  companions 
who  had  sought,  by  flattery  and  servility,  to  gain  his  friend- 
ship; his  heart,  now,  involuntarily,  turned  to  this  stranger; 
who  sought  not  his  friendship,  but  rather,  with  somewhat 
of  reserve  and  pride,  repelled  his  advances.  There  was, 
as  Louis  felt,  a  common  tie  between  them.  They  were  both 
children  of  misfortune ; — for  though  others  had  regarded 
the  condition  of  Louis,  as  enviable,  he  had  seen  that  omi- 
nous clouds  hung  over  the  horizon  of  his  earthly  destiny ; 
and,  strange  as  it  might  have  seemed  to  those  who  regarded 
him  with  envy,  he  felt  the  need  of  sympathy.  Yes,  the  child 
of  luxury,  the  only  son  of  parents  who  had  moved  in  the 
most  distinguished  circles  in  society,  stood  by  the  side  of 
the  poor,  fatherless  boy,  whose  mother  gained  a  scanty  sup- 
port by  daily  toil,  and  he  felt  that  they  were  united  by  the 
common  bond  of  misfortune — that  though  the  trials  of  his 
companion  were  apparent  to  all  who  knew  his  condition, 
his  own  anxieties  were  of  a  private  nature,  contrasting 
darkly,  with  the  brilliant  circumstances  with  which  his 
outer  life  was  invested. 

William  Landon,  on  his  part,  had  been  surprised  at  the  fa- 
miliarity and  kindness  with  which  Louis  had  addressed  him. 
Often,  as  he  had  trudged  through  the  streets  of  New  York, 
carrying  home  the  work  of  his  mother  to  her  employers ; 
he  had  seen  Louis  riding  with  his  parents,  their  splendid 
equipage  the  admiration  of  the  gaping  multitude  ;  and  he  had 
thought  within  himself,  "That  boy  is  high  up  the  world's 
ladder,  I  an  at  the  foot."  For  himself,  he  did  not  regard 
hardships;  but  if  his  dear  mother  and  sister  could  but  enjoy 
a  drive  in  the  fresh  air,  even  in  the  most  humble  style,  after 
their  day  of  labor,  he  thought  he  could  be  happy ; — and 
then,  hopes  and  aspirations  for  the  future,  would  spring  up 
in  his  mind,  and  pleasant  visions  of  successful  efforts  would 
give  him  new  strength  and  courage.  But  the  great  difficulty 
was  to  find  any  one  willing  to  encourage  him,  and  teach  him 


IDA    NORMAN.  81 

how  to  labor  in  some  calling  that  might  promise  a  future 
reward. 

About  the  time  Mrs.  Newton  proposed  to  Mrsu  Landon 
to  educate  Laura,  she  had  conversed  with  Mrs.  Selby  re- 
specting their  former  friend,  Mrs.  Landon,  and  of  her  pro- 
mising son,  who  was  anxious  to  obtain  a  clerkship.  Mrs. 
Selby  mentioned  the  case  to  her  husband,  who  very  rea- 
dily seconded  her  benevolent  views,  and  proposed  taking 
the  boy  into  his  service.  Mr.  Selby  was  a  princely  mer- 
chant, enlightened,  liberal  and  kind-hearted;  though  re- 
puted extremely  scrupulous,  and  exacting.  Willie  was  per- 
mitted by  Mr.  Selby,  to  board  with  his  mother;  an  arrange- 
ment highly  appreciated  by  Mrs.  Landon,  because  she  not 
only  enjoyed  the  company  of  her  son  at  evening,  but  was 
able  to  keep  a  watch  over  him,  and  his  associations,  at  a  crit- 
ical period  of  his  life.  Willie  highly  enjoyed  the  luxury  of 
being  able  to  buy  books ;  and  to  sit,  and  read,  to  his  mother, 
after  the  toils  of  the  day. 

With  her  son  and  daughter  so  eligibly  situated,  Mrs.  Lan- 
doii  began  to  feel  that  light  may  follow  darkness,  in  the  mo- 
ral, as,  in  the  physical  world.  She  gratefully  acknowledged 
that  she  was  truly  blessed  in  her  children.  "  It  is,  indeed, 
good  for  us,  that  we  have  been  afflicted,"  she  would  often 
say ;  "  our  trials  have  taught  us  to  love  one  another  the  bet- 
ter, and  to  trust  to  Him,  'who  feedeth  the  young  ravens,' 
for  care  and  sustenance." 

On  the  Saturday  morning,  when  Louis  Norman  had  met 
with  Willie  Landon,  the  latter,  having  obtained  permission  to 
be  absent  from  the  store,  was  on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Newton's 
school,  carrying  to  his  sister,  a  bundle  of  clothing  which  his 
mother  had  prepared  for  her.  His  own  feelings  would  have 
led  him  to  avoid  Louis,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  too  proud 
and  haughty  to  associate  with  a  boy  who  carried  a  bundle ; 
but  such  thoughts  vanished,  when  Louis,  with  a  tear  glis- 
tening in  his  eye,  and  a  voice  betraying  emotion,  said,  as 
they  sat  beneath  a  shade  tree,  by.  the  way-side;  "William 


82  IDA    NORMAN. 

Landon,  I  wish  for  your  friendship ;  I  need  a  friend  to  whom 
I  can  express  ray  feelings ;  I  want  a  companion  who  will 
regard  me  for  myself,  and  not  because  my  father  is  a  dis- 
tinguished man — I  want  a  friend,  who  will  not  flatter  me, 
one,  who  would  help  me  if  I  should  need  his  assistance." 

Willie  looked  at  Louis  with  surprise ;  but  he  saw  it  was 
no  mockery.  He  thought  of  what  his  mother  had  often  told 
him,  that  there  was  much  unhappiness  among  those  who 
seemed  most  prosperous  in  life — his  heart  responded  to 
Louis'  appeal  to  him  for  friendship;  he  grasped  the  prof- 
fered hand,  their  eyes  met,  and  they  interchanged  looks  of 
love  and  confidence.  But  a  moment's  reflection  changed 
the  current  of  Willie's  thoughts — "How  can  we  be  friends, 
sir?"  said  he,  "there  is  not  equality  between  us;  and,  with- 
out it,  how  can  we  feel  that  sympathy  which  is  the  chief 
element  of  friendship.  Our  conditions  in  life  are  entirely 
different ; — for  example,  what  would  the  young  gentlemen  of 
your  school,  say,  at  this  moment,  were  they  to  see  you  so 
familiar  with  a  poor  shop-boy,  with  a  bundle  under  his  arm  ?" 

"  But  suppose,"  said  Louis,  with  a  bitter  smile  at  his  own 
metaphor,  "that  you  carry  your  burthen  under  your  arm, 
and  I  carry  mine  on  my  heart,  which  is  most  to  be  pitied  ? 
I  tell  you,  William  Landon,  I  despise  the  mere  distinctions 
of  outward  circumstances;  I  am  determined  to  found  my 
own  expectations  in  life  upon  myself,  without  regard  to 
others.  My  father  was  successful  in  politics ;  but  what  of 
that  ?  The  wheel  is  now  revolving,  that  will  soon  throw 
him  off;  if  this  be  not  already  done.  His  career  of  am- 
bition rendered  our  family  circle,  gloomy,  and  withering 
to  the  best  affections  of  the  heart — I  have  often  wished 
he  had  been  a  poor,  but  honest  mechanic;  (at  the  word 
honest,  Louis'  voice  trembled,)  and  that  my  mother's  for- 
tune had  been  a  mere  humble  dowry,  then  would  she  not 
have  sacrificed  her  happiness  on  the-  altar  of  pride  and 
fashion.  You,  Landon,  do  not  know  what  sorrow  is; — 
your  home,  though  lowly,  is  the  abode  of  confidence  and 


IDA    NORMAN.  83 

love.  I  have  now  said  to  you  what  my  lips  have  never  be- 
fore uttered.  I  would  not  convey  to  my  sister,  the  dark 
thoughts  that  have  saddened  my  own  spirit.  Ida,  though 
much  changed  since  she  has  been  with  Mrs.  Newton,  is 
still  a  creature  of  impulse ;  my  forebodings  might  make  her 
wretched  without  any  good  effect.  She  has  had  great  con- 
flicts with  her  proud  and  haughty  spirit,  but  is  determined 
to  conquer — she  loves  your  sister;  and  to  her  influence, 
advice,  and  assistance,  she  is  greatly  indebted.  But  Ida  is 
still  too  proud  to  brook  the  thought  of  humiliation." 

"And  is  Miss  Ida  then,  so  very  proud  ?"  said  Willie,  with 
a  look  of  anxiety. 

"  Yes,  but  she  has  a  noble  spirit,  and  is  grateful  for  kind- 
ness. But  come,  William,  let  us  go,  together,  to  Mrs.  New- 
ton's ;  and,  as  a  proof  that  we  will  help  to  bear  each  other's 
burthens,  I  will  carry  that  bundle  which  I  dare  say  con- 
tains something  for  your  sweet  sister." 

Willie's  heart  was  touched,  his  reserve  vanished,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  have  embraced  Louis  for  his  frankness  in 
thus  removing  all  his  embarrassment.  But  he  refused,  though 
gratefully,  the  proffered  aid ;  and  the  two  young  men  pur- 
sued their  walk  together,  till  they  reached  the  residence  of 
Mrs.  Newton. 

Laura  Landon  ran  to  meet  her  brother,  as  he  was  ascend- 
ing the  steps  leading  to  the  portico,  and  without  observing 
his  companion,  who  was  observing  a  beautiful  magnolia 
which  grew  near  the  door,  she  exclaimed,  "Oh  Willie, 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you; — and  you  have  brought  my 
dresses  all  the  way  in  that  big  bundle;  you  are  a  kind, 
good  brother.  But  we  have  all  had  such  a  fright ; — I  can 
scarcely  speak,  now — poor  Ida  Norman" — 

"Hush,  hush,"  said  Willie,  pointing  to  Louis,  whom 
Laura  had  not  observed. 

But  Louis  had  heard,  and  springing  forward,  he  grasped 
the  hand  of  Laura — «  What,  Miss  Landon,  what  has  hap- 


84  IDA    NORMAN. 

pened  to  my  sister  ?  Do  not,  I  beseech  you,  keep  me  in  sus- 
pense." 

'•Oh  she  is  better  now,"  said  Laura,  "it  was  only  a 
fainting  fit,  caused  by " 

"  Caused  by  what,  my  dear  Miss  Landon  ?  is  she  hurt  ?" 

"  Her  feelings,"  said  Laura,  "  were  hurt  by  souie  unkind 
remarks  ; — something  about  her  father ; — not,  however,  in- 
tended for  her  ears." 

Louis  turned  pale,  and  gasped  for  breath;  "and  has  it 
come,  so  soon!"  said  he,  as  if  to  himself,  "and  are  my 
forebodings  about  to  be  realized !  But  I  must  know  the 
worst.  Miss  Landon,  will  you  please  send  a  servant  to  ask 
Mrs.  Newton  to  grant  me  an  interview  ?" 

Mrs.  Newton  received  Louis  in  her  private  apartment, 
where  they  remained  a  long  time  in  conversation. 


CHAPTER     XV. 

DISCLOSURES. DEVELOPMENT    OF    CHARACTER. 

MRS.  NEWTO.V  met  the  agitated  Louis,  in  a  manner  which 
bespoke  the  maternal  feelings  with  which  she  regarded  him. 
"  Tell  me,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Louis,  taking  her  hand, 
"  what  has  happened  to  Ida  ?  What  scandal  that  has  reached 
her  ears,  has  broken  her  heart  ?  Tell  me,  oh  tell  me !  My 
father!  has  any  thing,  certain,  been  heard  from  him?  It  is 
long  since  I  have  received  any  intelligence ; — I  know  his 
enemies  have  circulated  slanders."  Louis  gasped  for  breath 
and  a  deadly  faintness  came  over  him,  as  Mrs.  Newton's 
look  of  distress,  too  plainly  confirmed  his  worst  appre- 
hensions. 

"Be  calm,  my  dear  Louis,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "and  I 


IDA    NORMAN.  85 

shall  treat  you  as  a  man,  for  I  know  your  dignity  of  char- 
acter. Rest  yourself  a  moment,  and  calm  your  feelings, 
that  you  may  be  prepared  to  hear  tidings  which  must  dis- 
tress, but  should  not  crush  you." 

"My  father  has  been  superseded  in  his  office  perhaps," 
said  Louis,  "  I  shall  not  be  troubled  at  this,  I  have  expected 
it.  I  only  wish  he  had  never  held  an  office." 

Mrs.  Newton  remained  silent. 

"  Is  my  father  dead  ?"  said  Louis,  "  I  can  bear  to  hear 
all,  for  I  am  now  calm." 

"  He  is  not  dead." 

"What  then,  is  he  dishonored  ?" 

Mrs.  Newton  did  not  answer. 

Louis  sprung  upon  his  feet,  and  stood  erect  before  her, 
drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height — "If  my  father  is 
disgraced,"  said  he,  in  low,  deep  tones,  "  I  must  know  it — 
why  torture  me  with  this  suspense,  if  you  are  my  friend  ?" 

Mrs.  Newton,  in  her  turn,  was  affected,  and  burst  into 
tears ;  "  Louis,"  said  she,  "  how  can  I  plunge  a  poisoned 
dagger  into  your  young  heart  ?  how  can  I  reveal  to  you  that, 
which  will  throw  a  dark  shade  over  your  life,  and  may 
break  your  lofty  spirit?  You  know  not  the  power  of  the 
world's  scorn,  when  it  falls  withering  and  blighting  upon  a 
sensitive  heart." 

"Let  it  fall,"  said  Louis  firmly,  "  J  shall  heed  it  not; — 
the  certainty  of  evil  cannot  be  more  bitter  than  the  continual 
fear  of  it.  Hesitate  not,  my  dear  madam,  to  tell  me  all  you 
know  respecting  my  father.  Though  my  tongue  cleaves  to 
my  parched  mouth,  and  my  cheek  burns  as  J  say  it,  I  will 
confess  to  you,  I  have  long  feared  my  father's  principles 
had  become  corrupted,  that  politics  and  intrigue  had  warped 
his  moral  perceptions,  and  that  he  would,  one  day,  fall  from 
his  eminence, 

"Like  stars  which  set,  to  rise  no  more." 

8 


86  IDA    NORMAN. 

"  He  has  fallen,"  said  Mrs.  Newton.  "  He  is  said  to  be  a 
defaulter  to  the  government,  to  a  large  amount ;  and  1  learn 
from  his  agent  in  New  York,  that  his  funds  and  property  of 
all  kind  in  this  country,  that  had  not  been  withdrawn,  have 
been  seized  by  his  creditors." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Louis,  with  assumed  calmness,  "  he 
cannot,  under  these  circumstances,  return  to  his  native 
country — I  will  go  to  him." 

"What  could  you  do,  Louis,  if  you  were  with  your  father  r" 

"  I  could  labor  for  his  support,  and  comfort  him  in  his 
misfortunes." 

"  But  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "  he  associates  with 
such,  as  a  virtuous  youth  should  shun ;  would  you  share 
with  him  a  vicious  life  ?  Your  father,  Louis,  is  said  to  be 
now  in  Florence,  married  to  a  woman  whose  character  is 
represented  as  being,  at  least,  doubtful." 

"  Then  we  are  orphans  indeed,"  replied  Louis ;  "  it  would 
be  nothing  to  be  penniless;  but  to  be  disgraced,  to  be  pointed 
at  as  the  children  of  one  whose  name  is  conspicuous  in  the 
annals  of  infamy ; — this  will,  indeed,  be  a  bitter  lot,  a  wretch- 
ed inheritance !"  After  a  moment's  pause,  he  resumed : 
"but  I  will,  by  the  help  of  God,  make  a  name  for  myself. — 
It  has  long  been  my  wish  to  depend  on  no  one, — to  be  re- 
spected for  myself  only.  But  my  poor  sister  has  too  much 
prided  herself  on  the  position  of  her  family  ;  she  has,  doubt- 
less, exposed  herself  to  the  ill-will  of  others  by  her  pride, 
and  they  will  triumph  in  her  misfortune." 

Mrs.  Newton  informed  Louis,  when  he  became  calm 
enough  to  listen,  that  after  the  first  shock  occasioned  by 
the  malicious  conversation  of  two  envious  and  gossiping 
girls,  Ida  had  submitted  to  the  blow  with  resignation ;  that, 
though  still  weak  and  languid,  she  was  calm,  and  had  been 
anxiously  looking  for  his  visit. 

••  \Ve  will  now,"  said  she,  "go  to  her  apartment,  where 
I  will  leave  you  together.  Your  mutual  affection  will  evei 


IDA    NORMAN.  87 

be  a  consolation  to  you  in  trouble ;  and  while  I  live,  you 
shall  never  want  a  friend." 

Louis  pressed  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Newton  in  a  silence  more 
eloquent  than  any  words  he  could  have  uttered. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

HUMAN     NATURE     DISPLAYED. IDA    NORMAN'S    LETTER    TO 

HER    COMPANIONS. 

THIS  Saturday  was  one  of  no  little  excitement  at  Science 
Hall.  The  sudden  fainting  of  Ida  Norman,  the  day  pre- 
viously, had  been  a  mystery  to  all  the  pupils,  except  the  two 
who  had  caused  the  catastrophe.  They  knew  well  that  Mrs. 
Newton  must  hear  of  it,  as  soon  as  Ida  should  be  able  to 
explain  the  circumstance ;  yet  they  had  not  the  courage,  nor 
the  proper  kind  of  repentance,  to  go  to  Mrs.  Newton  and 
confess  their  fault;  but  sullenly  waited  for  time  to  prove 
what  degree  of  censure  should  fall  upon  them.  On  the 
morning  of  this  day,  Mrs.  Newton  having  assembled  the 
teachers  and  pupils  of  the  school,  stated  that  she  thought  it 
proper  to  explain  to  them,  that  Ida  Norman,  in  the  wise  pro- 
vidence of  God,  had  been  called  to  experience  a  great  re- 
verse of  fortune;  for  which,  Mrs.  Newton  said,  she  had 
been  gradually,  striving  to  prepare  her  mind; — that  Miss 
Sally  Pry  having  listened  to  a  private  conversation  between 
herself  and  Miss  Wentworth,  had  heard  particulars  respect- 
ing Ida's  father,  which  she  was  recounting  to  Miss  Maria 
Crump,  while  Ida  was  sitting  in  a  recess  studying  her  les- 
son ; — not  wishing  to  listen,  Ida  desired  to  leave  the  room, 
but  had  not  strength  to  do  so.  This  was  the  last  she  re- 
membered, until  she  found  herself  lying  on  her  bed  with 
many  standing  around  her. 


88  IDA    NORMAN. 

As  for  the  two  young  ladies  whose  conduct  had  been  the 
cause  of  so  sad  an  accident,  Mrs.  Newton  said,  she  would 
leave  them  to  their  own  bitter  reflections,  hoping,  that  this 
incident  might  teach  them  the  evils  of  voluntarily  listening 
to  private  conversation,  or  of  harboring  malice  in  their 
hearts.  It  was  true,  she  said,  that  Ida  Norman  has  been 
a  proud  and  passionate  girl ;  but  there  were  great  ex- 
cuses to  be  made  for  her — and  she,  Mrs.  Newton  added, 
who  knew  well  what  unbounded  indulgence  Ida  had  ex- 
perienced in  her  childhood,  and  how  her  pride  had  been 
fostered,  had  ever  felt  this ;  and  she  had  seen  amidst  all 
her  faults,  a  noble  and  generous  spirit  united  with  genius 
and  sensibility. 

"  Who  among  you,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "  can  have  less 
cause  to  expect  misfortune  than  had  Ida  Norman,  when  she 
entered  this  school,  and  for  some  time  after?  Now,  she  is 
left  to  depend  on  herself;  and  she  is  willing  to  make  every 
effort.  She  wishes,  not  only  to  consider  herself  as  indebted 
for  all  future  advantages  of  education ;  but  is  nobly  deter- 
mined that  she  will,  by  her  exertions,  repay  the  debt  for  her 
past  expenses  which  her  father  had  failed  to  do." 

The  school  girls  were  much  astonished.  Sally  Pry  and 
Maria  Crump  were  crest-fallen,  and  dared  not  raise  their  eyes. 
Laura  Landon  wept  for  Ida's  misfortunes; — she  thought 
what  had  been  so  easy  for  her  to  attempt,  would  be  hard  for 
Ida; — she  had  been  familiar  with  poverty  from  her  birth, 
but  u  how,"  she  thought,  "  can  Ida  endure  its  trials  and 
humiliations !" 

Julia  Selby  looked  approvingly,  when  she  heard  of  Ida's 
determination;  but  many  of  the  school-girls  scarcely  knew 
whether  to  praise  or  blame.  Miss  Softer  whispered,  that 
"  let  come  what  would,  she  would  never  be  a  teacher,  any 
how."  Miss  Sharp,  with  a  significant  smile,  said,  "  I  presume 
you  would  not,  for  in  order  to  teach,  one  must  know  some- 
thing." Miss  Blossom,  the  daughter  of  a  bankrupt,  said  to 


IDA  NORMAN: 

Miss  Keen, "  she  was  sure  her  father  would  never  permit  her 
to  do  any  thing  for  her  living;  she  should  not  like  to  lose 
caste  by  such  vulgarity.''  Miss  Keen  whispered,  sarcas- 
tically ;  "Do  you  think  it  less  vulgar  to  live  on  the  earn- 
ings of  other  people,  than  to  work  for  one's  own  living  ?" 
"I  think  you  are  very  impertinent,  Fanny  Keen;  I  am 
sure  I  don't  understand  your  insinuations." 

"There  are  none  so  blind  as  those  who  won't  see,"  an- 
swered Fanny. 

"Is  it  not  too  good,"  whispered  Agnes  Newcome  to 
Emma  Van  Renselaer,  "that  Ida  Norman's  pride  is  at  last 
humbled.  I  wish  Mrs.  Newton  would  send  her  to  be  a  milli- 
ner's apprentice  ;  I  should  like  to  see  her  sitting  at  work,  in 
the  back-room  of  a  shop,  with  twenty  poor  girls,  like  her- 
self about  her,  ashamed  to  look  up  at  the  ladies  who  are 
bargaining  with  her  mistress  for  bonnets." 

k'Oh.  Agnes!"  said  Emma,  "how  can  you  indulge  in  such 
feelings  towards  poor  Ida  ?  What  has  she  done  to  you,  that 
you  can  triumph  over  her  misfortunes?" 

••  What  has  she  done,  Miss  Van  Renselaer  ?  she  has 
always  looked  at  me,  as  if  she  considered  herself  my  supe- 
rior. She  has  carried  herself  in  such  a  lofty  way,  walking 
as  if  the  ground  was  not  good  enough  for  her  to  tread 
upon,  and  as  if  she  could  not  look  down.  She  has  looked 
up  long  enough,  now  she  will  have  to  come  down," 

••But,  Agnes,  you  know  that  Ida  was  friendly  to  all,  and 
particularly  how  affectionate  she  has  always  been  to  Laura 
Landon,  who  we  all  know  is  poor,  so  far  as  this  world  is 
concerned." 

u  I  dare  say,"  replied  Miss  Neweome,  "that  Ida  Norman 
thought  Willie  Landon  would  be  a  rich  merchant,  and  live 
in  a  marble  house,  in  some  grand  Place,  and  has  pretended 
to  a  friendship  for  his  sister,  on  his  account." 

"You  are  very  ingenious  in  inventing  selfish  motives," 
replied  Emma,  "for  myself,  I  do  not  like  to  look  with  such 
8* 


90  IDA    NORMAN 

eyes  on  the  actions  of  others,  nor  imagine  the  most  impro- 
bable motives,  rather  than  give  persons  credit  for  what 
seems  good  and  amiable.  You  know  Ida  Norman  was 
brought  up  with  sentiments  of  family  pride.  There  is  much 
excuse  to  be  made  for  those  who,  from  infancy,  are  sur- 
rounded by  their  inferiors,  if  they  do  appear  somewhat 
haughty." 

"  Meaning,  I  suppose,  Miss  Emma,  that  I  am  not  entitled 
to  any  such  excuse.  1  would  have  you  know  that  I  feel 
myself  as  good  as  you,  or  any  one  else  in  school ;"  and  So- 
phronia  Newcome,  involuntarily  rattled  the  coin  in  her 
pocket,  as  if,  there  lay  her  claim  to  being  "  as  good  as  any 
one." 

Mrs.  Newton  had  remained  silent  for  some  time,  willing 
to  allow  the  girls  an  opportunity  to  give  vent  to  their 
various  emotions  on  this  occasion;  and, also  that  she  might 
the  better  command  herself,  to  fulfil  a  remaining  duty.  She 
now  requested  silence;  saying,  "I  have  a  communication, 
young  ladies,  from  Miss  Ida  Norman,  which  I  have  promised 
to  read  to  you." 

There  was  breathless  attention  among  the  listeners,  as 
Mrs.  Newton  read  the  following: 

"My  dear  school-mates  and  companions,  I  rise  from  my 
bed  to  write  to  you  what  lies  heavy  at  my  heart,  and  thus  un- 
burthen  myself  to  you.  It  is  about  three  years  since  I  came 
to  this  school.  Some  of  you  now  here,  may  remember  the 
passion  and  obstinacy  which  I  discovered  the  very  first  day 
of  my  arrival ;  and  I  have,  since,  often  behaved  unamiably 
towards  many  of  you,  and  quarrelled  with  those  who  would 
have  been  my  friends.  I  have  been  proud,  self-willed  and 
passionate,  little  thinking  I  should  ever  need  friends  as  1 
now  do,  or  that  my  character  would  be  my  only  dependence 
for  support.  I  hope  that  for  some  time  past,  my  conduct 
has  been  better,  and  that  I  have  made  some  friends  among 
my  school  companions. 


IDA    NORMAN.  HI 

"When  left  by  my  parents  among  strangers,  I  began  to 
reflect  that  they  would  not  love  me,  unless  I  merited  their 
regard.  And  I  reflected  that  I  might  be  left  friendless, 
and  without  wealth,  with  my  education,  perhaps,  as  my 
only  resource.  Such  thoughts  as  these,  with  the  good  advice 
of  my  faithful  and  judicious  friends,  Julia  Selby  and  Laura 
Landon,  and  the  maternal  counsels  of  dear  Mrs.  Newton, 
led  me  to  try  to  be  kind  and  affectionate  to  all,  and  to  im- 
prove my  time,  that  I  might  be  beloved  by  my  companions, 
and  respected  for  my  own  worth.  But  it  has  been  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  overcome  my  haughty  disposition;  and  I 
fear  I  have  not  succeeded  very  well,  as  I  heard  Sally  Pry 
and  Maria  Crump,  say  I  was  proud  and  disagreeable,  and 
they  were  glad  to  have  me  humbled.  I  forgive  Sally  and 
Maria,  for  they  doubtless  had  cause  to  speak  of  me  in  this 
way.  I  ask  their  forgiveness,  and  that  of  all  my  school- 
mates whom  I  may  have  offended  at  any  time.  I  hope 
they  will  all  try  to  help  the  proud  Ida  to  be  meek  and 
gentle,  and  to  bear  with  a  proper  spirit,  the  misfortunes 
which  have  fallen  upon  her. 

"•I  have  desired  Mrs.  Newton  to  inform  you  all,  that  as  I 
find  the  words  of  Sally  and  Maria,  respecting  my  dependent 
situation  to  be  but  too  true,  it  is  my  determination  to  im- 
prove myself  as  fast  as  possible,  so  that  1  may  be  qualified 
to  repay  in  some  degree  my  dear  benefactress  for  her  kind- 
ness to  me, — a  kindness  bestowed,  even  when  I  was  wholly 
insensible  that  I  was  indebted  to  her  resources  for  the  sup- 
ply of  my  wants,  often  unreasonable  and  extravagant,  ac- 
cording to  the  habits  of  my  early  life.  But  I  am  now,  truly 
in  orphan ;  in  some  respects  more  to  be  pitied  than  if  I  had 
IK)  longer  a  parent  in  existence.  Let  me  entreat  then,  that 
you  will  all,  my  dear  school-mates,  be  my  friends,  and  en- 
courage me  in  my  good  resolutions.  Do  not  exult  over 
me  on  account  of  my  former  pride  and  offences;  but  now, 
that  I  am  humbled  and  distressed,  pity  and  love  me.  as  you 


92  IDA    NORMAN. 

would  desire  to  be  pitied  and  loved,  should  your  Heavenly 
Father  afflict  you  as,  I  am  afflicted;  we  should  all  remem- 
ber, that  trouble  is  often  sent  by  Him  in  mercy,  to  reclaim 
the  erring  and  disobedient." 

The  girls  were  much  affected  at  the  reading  of  Ida\s  com- 
munication.    Sally  Pry  and  Maria  Crump  pretended  to  shed 
tears,  and  sobbed  aloud.     Many  who  had  rejoiced  at  Ida's 
misfortunes,  now  felt  desirous  of  alleviating   her  distress. 
Mrs.  Newton  improved  the  occasion,  by  adding  some  re- 
marks on  the  uncertainty  of  all  earthly  advantages  and  pos- 
sessions, and  the  importance  of  forming  early  habits  of  in- 
dustry, economy,  and  submission  to  disappointments.     She 
did  not  suffer  to  pass  without  remark,  the  evident  satisfaction 
with  which  some  of  them  had  heard  of  Ida's  misfortunes ; 
and  her  gratification,  in  perceiving  that  after  learning  her 
•  deep  humility  and  sincere  regret  for  her  past  offences  to- 
wards any  of  them,  they  evinced  sympathy  and  kind  feel- 
ings.    She  hoped,  Ida  would  soon  appear  among  them,  to 
resume  her  duties,  and  presumed  she  would  be  welcomed 
by  them  with  sisterly  affection ;  that  her  faults,  for  it  was 
not  to  be  expected  she  would  be  able  to  conquer  them, 
at  once,  would  be  overlooked,  and  her  virtues  cherished. 
Most  of  the  girls  left  the  assemblage  with  good  feelings  and 
good    intentions;    some   to  cherish   the   same,  while  with 
others,  in  whom  an  evil  nature  had  deep  root,  the  good  im- 
pressions of  the  hour  were  destined  to  pass  away  as  the 
early  dew. 


IDA    NORMAN.  93 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE   BE.VEF1CIAL  EFFECTS  OF  TRIALS,  EXEMPLIFIED  IN  THE 
INTERVIEW    BETWEEN    LOUIS    NORMAN    AND    HIS    SISTER. 

LONG  and  affecting  was  the  interview  between  Louis  and 
Ida.  The  former  had  not  been  taken  wholly  by  surprise,  in  re- 
spect to  his  father's  affairs.  He  had,  for  some  time,  been  aware 
that  no  remittance  had  been  received  for  him,  by  Mr.  Dela- 
plaine,  the  principal  of  Bourbon  Hall ;  and  this  was  one 
cause  of  the  anxiety  he  had  expressed  in  his  conversation 
with  William  Landon.  The  painful  suspense  respecting  his 
father,  and  his  own  real  circumstances  had  appeared  to  him 
more  fearful  than  any  certain  misfortune ;  and  thus  he  had 
looked  upon  William's  condition  as  far  preferable  to  his 
own.  "  I  do  not  care  for  myself,  dear  Ida,"  said  Louis,  "  for 
I  am  a  man,  capable  of  enduring  hardships;  but  I  fear  it 
will  be  some  time  before  I  can  do  much  for  your  support, 
which  I  shall  henceforth  consider  as  devolving  upon  myself." 

"No,  Louis,  think  not  of  that;  it  will  even  be  longer  be- 
fore you  can  engage  in  any  business,  than  before  I  shall  be 
able  to  apply  my  education  to  useful  purposes ;  and  I  may  be 
able  to  assist  you.  Mrs.  Newton  has  taught  me  that  women 
need  not  be  helpless  burthens  upon  their  friends,  nor  use- 
less beings  in  society.  She  has  been,  gradually  leading 
me  to  think  of  doing  something  for  myself;  and  I  had 
even  determined,  while  I  yet  supposed  we  possessed  un- 
bounded wealth,  to  beg  of  her  to  suffer  me  to  remain  with 
her  as  a  teacher  after  completing  my  education." 

"  That  was  a  noble  thought,  dear  Ida ;  you  have  changed 
greatly,  in  your  views  within  the  last  few  months." 

"  I  have  seen  how  nobly  Laura  Landon  conducts,  how 
highly  she  is  esteemed,  and  it  has  been  my  wish  to  resemble 


94  IDA   NORMAN. 

her;  alas,  I  thought  not  how  soon  my  situation  would  be 
far  more  unfortunate  than  hers !" 

"Laura  Landon's  circumstances,  my  dear  sister,  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  have  been  unfortunate ;  she  has  had  a 
judicious  mother  to  advise  her,  and  every  influence  in  her 
life  has  been  favorable  to  her  moral  feelings." 

"  Louis,"  said  Ida,  with  anxiety,  "  what  will  you  do  ? 
Mr.  Delaplaine  does  not  feel  for  you,  as  Mrs.  Newton  does 
for  me ;  he  may  not  be  willing  to  aid  you.  Must  your  edu- 
cation be  interrupted  ?" 

"  My  education,  dear  sister,  must  now  begin,  the  struggle 
with  life,  the  toil,  the  disappointments,  and  the  deferred 
hopes.  I  have,  as  yet,  formed  no  plan,  but  something  I  must 
do,  immediately,  I  will  speak  to  Mr.  Delaplaine  at  once  •  not 
another  night  will  I  remain  under  his  roof,  to  add  to  my 
weight  of  obligation,  nor  will  I  wait  to  meet  the  sneers  of 
those  who  have  servilely  courted  my  friendship." 

"  But  Louis,  how  can  you  leave  your  school  to-night  ? 
alas,  you  have  no  home  to  go  to,  my  poor  brother!  Mrs. 
Newton,  would,  I  know,  be  happy  to  have  you  in  her 
family,  for  she  loves  you  as  a  son."  "  Do  not  fear  for  me 
Ida,"  said  Louis,  "  William  Landon  whom  I  met  in  my  walk 
here,  has  promised  to  be  my  friend ;  I  will  ask  him  to  take 
me  to  his  home  to  stay  until  Sunday  is  over — then,  I  will  do 
something,  I  know  not  what.  With  prophetic  vision,  I  have 
often  thought  of  such  a  crisis  as  this ;  and  I  am,  therefore,  the 
better  prepared  to  embark  on  the  cold,  dark  current  of  life. 
God  will  protect  us,  dear  sister,  let  us  trust  in  Him."  Ida 
threw  her  arms  around  her  brother's  neck,  and  sobbed ; 
but  her  tears  were  those  of  resignation  and  tenderness.  In 
the  silence  of  their  own  hearts,  both  called  upon  their 
Father  in  heaven,  and  committed  themselves  to  his  guardian 
care  and  protection. 

Louis  looked  at  his  watch,  "  I  must  go,  Ida ;  for 
William  Landon  is  obliged  to  return  to  the  city  before 


IDA    NORMAN.  95 

night,  and  I  will  accompany  him."  At  sight  of  the  watch 
which  Louis  still  held  in  his  hand,  a  sudden  thought  was 
suggested.  "This  watch,"  said  he  "is  very  valuable;  why 
should  I  not  sell  it,  and  the  other  costly  trinkets  which  our 
indulgent  parents  bestowed  upon  me,  and  appropriate  the 
avails,  to  the  payment  of  my  debt  to  Mr.  Delaplaine  ? — it 
seems,  indeed,  almost  like  sacrilege  to  part  with  the  gifts  of 
our  departed  mother,  and  our  poor,  lost  father  in  our  days 
of  prosperity,  but  I  am  in  debt,  and  they  are  mine  no  longer!" 

Ida  pressed  her  brother's  hand ;  she  approved  his  resolu- 
tion, but  her  heart  bled  at  the  necessity  for  such  a  cruel 
sacrifice.  "I  would  gladly  go  with  you,  Louis,  and  share 
poverty  and  contempt ;  but  my  sex  forbids  the  bold  steps 
which  you  may  dare  to  take — yet  I  can,  at  least,  aid  you 
by  the  offering  of  what  I  have,  that  might  be  converted  into 
money."  Ida  went  to  a  drawer  and  taking  out  a  casket, 
said,  "Louis,  a  few  days  before  I  came  to  school,  our  dear 
mother  purchased  this  watch  and  chain ;  they  were,  I  know, 
very  costly;  and  these  diamond  bracelets,  with  the  aigret 
and  pin,  which  our  grandmother, before  her  death,  gave  me; 
and  here  is — " 

"Stop,  stop,  Ida,"  said  Louis,  "do  you  think  I  would 
take  from  you,  these  things?  No,  sister,  were  they  yours  to 
give,  I  would  not  be  so  base; — but  they  do,  in  reality, 
belong  to  the  person  who  has  supported  and  educated  you. 
I  know  she  would  not  accept  them,  but  they  are  not  the 
less,  hers.  Go  to  Mrs.  Newton,  and  ask  her  to  keep  them 
for  the  present,  you  can  have  no  use  for  them  now." 

Ida  with  a  sigh,  laid  aside  the  casket  "You  are  right 
Louis,  I  shall  do  as  you  advise;  I  should  have  thought  of 
this." 

"You  will  hear  from  me  soon,"  said  Louis.  "That  you 
have  here  a  home,  and  in  Mrs.  Newton  a  parent  who  will 
take  care  of  you,  shall  be  my  solace  amidst  my  trials. 
Adieu,  dear  sister ; — seek  to  be  resigned  to  your  situation, 


96  IDA    NORMAN. 

and  cultivate  the  gentle  virtues  of  your  sex.  With  Laura 
Landon  for  an  example,  and  under  such  a  guide  as  Mrs. 
Newton,  aided  by  your  own  good  sense,  you  cannot  fail  to 
become  a  good  and  useful  woman.  Doubt  not,  my  sister, 
that  the  trials  which  now  beset  our  pathway,  will  prove 
1  blessings  in  disguise.'"  Another  affectionate  "good-bye," 
and  the  brother  and  sister,  with  sorrowful  hearts  separated, 
for  a  season. 

Louis  sought  Mrs.  Newton,  and  informed  her  of  his 
determination  to  leave  Mr.  Delaplaine,  that  day,  and  look 
for  some  situation  in  which  he  might  support  himself.  She 
approved  his  intention  of  going  to  Mrs.  Landon's  humble 
lodging  to  stay  until  the  Monday  following,  and  was 
pleased  with  the  commencement  of  an  intimacy  between  him 
and  William,  foreseeing  that  much  good  to  both,  might  be 
the  result.  Mrs.  Newton  assured  Louis  of  her  willingness 
to  aid  him ;  she  had  influential  friends  who  would  interest 
themselves  for  him,  should  he  take  letters  of  introduction 
to  them,  or  she  could  soon  obtain  for  him  a  clerkship. 

He  gratefully  declined  all  offers  of  introduction  or  assist- 
ance, remarking  that  he  might  be  glad  to  avail  himself  of  Mrs. 
Newton's  kind  offices  at  a  future  time,  but  would,  first,  try 
to  make  his  way  alone;  and  should  he  fail  in  what  he 
undertook,  he  should  then  discredit  no  one  but  himself. 
This  was  certainly  a  generous  feeling,  but  there  might  have 
been  more  romance  than  judgment  in  his  plan;  for  what 
could  a  young  man  expect  to  do  in  the  great  city,  without 
some  introduction  from  a  respectable  source? 

The  hours  flew,  swiftly,  with  William  Landon  and  his 
sister  who  had  much  to  communicate  of  their  own  feelings 
and  plans,  and  much  to  say  respecting  their  mother,  still 
toiling  on  in  her  accustomed  round  of  labor. 

"  I  have  prospects  of  success  before  me,  Laura,"  said 
William ;  "  if  I  am  faithful  to  my  employers  and  continue 
to  please  them,  I  doubt  not  I  shall  be  promoted  in  due 


IDA    NORMAN.  97 

time ;  but  I  am,  sometimes,  almost  impatient  for  the  period 
to  arrive  when  I  can  relieve  our  beloved  parent  from  all  ne- 
cessity for  labor,  by  offering  her  a  home  and  support, — and 
you,  Laura,  I  would  gladly  assist  if — " 

"  And  what,  Willie,  could  you  do  for  me,  if  you  pos- 
sessed the  wealth  of  the  Indies  ? — Would  you  give  me  the 
means  of  education  ? — I  have  all  that  money  could  pur- 
chase. Would  you  raise  me  above  the  future  necessity  of 
exerting  my  faculties  for  the  good  of  others  ? — I  look  for- 
ward to  this  as  my  greatest  happiness.  Thus  you  see,  Willie, 
that  your  money  would  not  be  so  great  a  blessing — but 
then,  it  would  be  pleasant  for  us  to  have  a  beautiful  house, 
furnished  with  elegance  and  taste,  and  a  carriage  for  dear 
mama  to  ride  in ;  and  to  have  the  means  for  her  to  live,  in 
the  style  in  which  she  was  brought  up.  At  least,  all  this 
appears  desirable ;  but  how  little  do  we  know  what  is 
best  for  us  in  life !  It  seems  that  Mr.  Norman's  family, 
even  when  their  condition  appeared  most  enviable,  were  not 
always  happy ;  at  least  so  I  should  judge,  from  what  Ida 
has  told  me  of  their  mode  of  life.  But  Willie,  how  did 
you  meet  with  Louis  ?  I  have  long  wanted  you  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  him ;  but  you  have  always  been  so  shy,  and 
avoided  an  introduction." 

"  I  felt,  sister,  that  there  was  a  great  distance  between  a 
poor  clerk,  and  a  young  gentleman  of  Louis  Norman's  ex- 
pectations; but  things  ar£  now  so  changed,  that  I  may, 
humble  as  I  am,  be  of  some  use  to  him.  But  depend  on  it, 
Laura,  that  young  man  will,  one  day,  become  distinguished; 
he  is  born  to  lead  others,  and  can  never  be  kept  down  in  an 
obscure  position ; — but  he  will  rise,  by  the  upward  force  of 
genius  and  merit,  and  not  by  management  and  intrigue." 

Willie  did  not  observe  that  Laura's  color  heightened  to  a 
carnation  hue.     Changing  the  subject,  she  spoke  of  Ida,  of 
the  great  improvement  in  her  character,  and  her  many  noble 
and  generous  qualities. 
9 


98  IDA    NORMAN. 

"I  never  doubted,'1  said  Willie,  with  enthusiasm,  "but 
that  Ida  Norman  would  become  all  that  is  lovely  in  woman. 
Such  a  countenance  as  hers  could  never  be  the  index  to  a 
bad  heart.  Tell  her,  Laura,  if  I  may  dare  send  her  a  mes- 
sage, that  I  would  be  remembered  as  her  friend,  and  not, 
merely,  as  the  giver  of  the  white  kitten." 

The  two  youths  were  seen,  before  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
wending  their  way  to  the  city ;  for  a  time  each  seemed  oc- 
cupied with  his  thoughts.  Louis,  at  length,  said,  "I  am 
now  to  make  proof  of  your  friendship,  William  ;  I  wish  you 
to  take  me  to  your  mother's  to-night,  and  let  me,  there,  mid 
a  home  until  the  holy  Sabbath  is  past." 

"  My  mother's  abode  is  very  different  from  any  thing  to 
which  you  have  been  accustomed,"  said  Willie;  "  but  though 
humble,  it  will  afford  you  comfortable  refreshment,  and  re- 
pose, and  my  mother  will  be  most  happy  to  welcome  you 
to  her  house." 

Willie  had  learned  from  his  sister  the  sad  story  of  Mr. 
Norman's  fall,  which  he  supposed  to  be  the  reason  for  Louis' 
not  wishing  to  return  to  school ;  but  it  occurred  to  him  that 
Louis'  first  business  should  be,  to  withdraw  openly,  and 
honorably.  "You  will,"  said  he,  "of  course,  call  at  Mr. 
Delaplaine's,  and  inform  him  of  the  change  you  are  to  make.'1 

Though  this  was  a  great  trial,  Louis  perceived  that  it  was 
a  necessary  one.  In  few  words,  he  explained  to  that  gen- 
tleman, what  he  already  had  good  reasons  to  suspect,  that 
he  could  no  longer  look  to  his  father  for  supplies,  and 
must  now  consider  himself  as  his  own  guardian ;  he  thanked 
Mr.  Delaplaine  for  his  kindness  to  him,  and  assured  him, 
that  he  should  not  rest  satisfied,  until  he  had  honorably  dis- 
charged all  pecuniary  obligations  for  the  expenses  of  his  ed- 
ucation. Mr.  Delaplaine,  who  conducted  the  education  of 
young  men  rather  as  a  business,  than  with  the  desire  of 
doing  good,  or  any  spirit  of  devotion  to  the  interests  of  the 
young,  treated  Louis  coldly,  and  said,  with  little  delicacy, 


IDA    NORMAN.  99 

•'  What  do  you  expect  to  do,  young  man  ?  how  can  you 
pay  your  debts  ?" 

"  I  hope  to  be  able,  sir,  in  a  few  years,  to  tell  you  what 
I  have  done,"  said  Louis,  "  my  plans,  at  present,  are  all 
indefinite." 

"Very  well,  Master  Norman,"  said  Mr.  Delaplaine,  "I 
have  no  objections  to  your  going;  though,  you  might  stay, 
ami  take  care  of  the  small  boys,  and  be  useful  in  a  good 
many  ways.  But  you  can  try  the  world ;  you  may  find  it 
colder  than  you  think  for.  For  the  credit  of  my  school,  I 
hope  you  will  turn  out  to  be  a  more  honest  man  than  your 
lather  has  shown  himself." 

A  crimson  blush  burned  the  cheek  of  Louis,  and  his  first 
impulse  was  to  resent  the  affront;  but  a  sign  from  Lan- 
don  checked  the  rising  passion,  and  he  only  said,  "Say 
to  me  what  you  please,  sir,  but  spare  my  father's  name." 
Landon  motioned  to  go,  and  Louis  rose ;  "  I  wish  to  go  to 
my  room,  sir,  to  get  a  few  articles ;  but  I  shall  not  ask  to 
take  my  trunks,  until  I  shall  have  been  able  by  the  sale  of 
my  watch  and  some  other  articles  of  value,  to  pay  you  a 
portion  of  the  debt  I  owe  you ; — for  the  remainder,  I  must 
ask  you  to  wait." 

''You  speak  with  assurance,  young  man!  but  suppose  I 
should  think  proper  to  detain  you ; — for  what  security  have 
I.  that  you  will  ever  pay  the  large  debt  due  me  for  your 
education  ?" 

"Mr.  Delaplaine,"  said  Louis,  "have  I  ever  told  you  a 
falsehood,  or  done  a  dishonorable  act,  since  I  have  been  in 
your  family  ?  You  can,  surely,  trust  my  word.  I  do  not  say 
what  I  icill  do,  but  I  engage  to  try.  to  do  something.  I  can 
not  remain  in  your  family;  but  you  may  rely  fully  on  my 
honor,  and  industry." 

Mr.  Delaplaine  saw  that  Louis  was  firm;  and  he  thought 
proper,  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  to  let  him  de- 
part as  soon  as  he  chose. 


100  IDA    NORMAN. 

Louis  was  soon  ready  to  go,  and  making  an  effort  to  do, 
what  he  thought  was  his  duty,  he  offered  his  hand,  to  Mr. 
Delaplaine ; — but  that  popular  guardian  of  youth,  parted 
with  the  young  man,  in  his  affliction,  with  as  little  feeling 
as  he  would  have  separated  from  a  fellow-traveller  after 
an  hour's  ride,  or  a  stranger  with  whom  he  had  been  en- 
gaged in  a  trifling  business  transaction. 

The  popularity  of  Mr.  Delaplaine  was  not  the  reward  of 
merit.  He  could  flatter  the  great,  and  fawn  upon  those  from 
whom  he  expected  patronage ;  but  he  had  a  natural  antipathy 
against  the  unfortunate.  When  Louis  first  became  a  mem- 
ber of  Bourbon  Hall,  he  was,  of  all  other  pupils,  the  favorite ; 
but  he  had  felt,  for  some  time,  in  the  decrease  of  Mr.  Dela- 
plaine's  kindness,  that  his  own  star  of  prosperity  was  de- 
clining. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

MRS.  LANDON'S  RESIDENCE. — HER  EARLY  HISTORY. — LOUIS 
NORMAN'S  VISIT  AT  MRS.  LANDON'S. — AN  EARLY  DE- 
PARTURE. 

IN  an  obscure  street  in  New  York,  was  the  humble  abode 
of  Mrs.  Landon,  a  low  tenement  standing  back  from  the 
road ;  and  thus  affording  a  small  court-yard  which  was  or- 
namented with  flowering  shrubs,  and  a  few  pines  and  firs, 
whose  evergreen  foliage  was  no  unapt  representation  of  the 
perennial  hope,  which  cheered  and  sustained  the  worthy 
inmate  of  the  lowly  abode. 

Mrs.  Landon,  though  bred  in  affluence,  had  been  carefully 
instructed  by  a  judicious  and  pious  mother,  whose  early  loss 
she  bitterly  deplored.  Often,  in  the  prime  of  her  youth 
and  beauty  did  she  turn  aside  from  the  fascinations  of 


IDA    NORMAN.  101 

pleasure  to  seek  the  poor  and  afflicted,  and  minister  conso- 
lation to  the  wounded  heart. 

By  the  bed-side  of  one  of  the  objects  of  her  bounty,  she 
met  with  a  young  clergyman,  called  to  perform  the  sad 
office  of  ministering  to  a  sick  penitent.  Amidst  the  awful 
solemnity  of  such  a  scene,  neither  Mary  Tracy,  nor  Samuel 
Landon  thought  of  the  presence  of  each  other.  But  when 
the  prayers  for  the  sick  were  over,  and  their  mission  of  piety 
and  charity  duly  performed,  they  both  turned  from  the  abode 
of  suffering,  and  as  they  walked,  together,  through  an  ob- 
scure street  in  the  suburbs  of  tlie  city,  they  were,  naturally, 
led  to  speak  of  the  scene  they  had  witnessed.  The  gentleman 
surprised  at  seeing  in  such  a  place,  alone,  and  unattended, 
a  young  and  lovely  woman,  evidently  belonging  to  the 
first  class  in  society,  ventured,  modestly  to  suggest  his 
wish  to  see  her  home. 

Mary  Tracy  had  no  false  pride,  she  did  not  consider  the 
stranger  impertinent  in  speaking  to  her,  although  no  formal 
introduction  had  passed  between  them.  His  holy  calling, 
and  the  delicacy  and  refinement  of  his  manners,  were  assur- 
ances that  he  would  be  a  safe  guide  through  the  mazes  of 
the  crowded  city.  Miss  Tracy  explained  the  circumstance 
of  her  being  at  that  abode  of  sorrow,  by  saying,  that  the  sick 
person  had  once  been  a  servant  in  her  father's  family ;  and 
that  having  learned,  in  a  morning's  walk,  of  her  being  so  very 
ill,  she  had  turned  her  steps  to  the  residence  of  the  woman, 
without  waiting  to  go  home  for  a  carriage,  "  as  doubtless  1 
should  have  done,"  she  added,  "  since  I  find  my  presence 
here,  alone,  occasions  your  surprise ;  but  I  am  indulged  by 
my  parents,  in  going  where  1  think  duty  calls  me,  and  have 
never  yet  met  with  any  rudeness  in  my  walks." 

"My  surprise,"  said  the  young  clergyman,  "might  better 

be  termed  admiration,  in  meeting  you  at  such  a  place,  and 

on  such   an  occasion ;  young  ladies  usually  consider  such 

scenes  as  unsuited  to  the  refinement  and  delicacy  of  their 

9* 


102  IDA    NORM  AW. 

»ex,  and  I  am  truly  happy  to  find,  even  one  fair  being, 
willing  to  become  a  ministering  angel  to  the  poor  and 
afflicted." 

The  stranger  blushed,  conscious  that  he  had  spoken  with 
warmth;  he  despised  flattery,  and  did  not  approve  of  praising 
any  one  for  the  mere  performance  of  duty.  Surprise  had 
betrayed  him  into  an  act,  for  which  his  principles  con- 
demned him. 

Mary  too,  was,  for  the  moment,  embarrassed  at  an  unex- 
pected compliment  from  one  who  seemed  so  serious  and 
sincere.  With  ready  tact,  she  changed  the  subject,  and  spoke 
of  the  beauty  of  the  morning;  she  then  remarked  on  the  vene- 
rable appearance  of  an  ancient  church,  which  they  were,  at 
that  moment,  passing.  "This,"  said  the  stranger,  "is  the 
place  where  I  officiate.  My  congregation,  are,  generally 
among  the  most  humble  classes  of  society.  My  situation 
among  them  is  not  one  to  gratify  ambition  ;  but  I  trust  I  am 
about  my  Master's  business  in  feeding  the  lambs  of  His 
flock,  even  in  a  lowly  vale."  Mary  did  not  answer, — in  the 
depths  of  her  heart,  there  was  a  chord  which  responded  fully 
to  the  sentiments  of  the  stranger;  she  could  not  express 
what  she  felt,  and  they  walked  on,  in  silence.  The  stranger 
again  perceived  that  he  had  been  led  to  speak  on  a  subject, 
personal  to  himself,  to  one  who  could  not  be  supposed  to 
have  any  interest  in  him,  or  in  his  actions ;  and  a  mutual 
embarrassment  seemed  to  threaten  an  awkward  termiuation 
to  their  acquaintance. 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  trouble  yourself  to  go  with  me 
farther,"  said  Mary,  "  your  time  is  too  valuable  to  be  thrown 
away,  and  I  assure  you  I  shall  reach  home,  without  -even 
the  slightest  fear  of  annoyance."  The  stranger  fearing  he 
had  appeared  intrusive,  slackened  his  pace,  about  to  obey  the 
request  of  his  interesting  companion. 

"  By  what  name,"  said  Mary  with  a  modest  blush,  "shall 
I  remember  the  stranger  who  has  protected  me  this  morning  ?" 
He  handed  his  address,  the  "Rev.  Samuel  Landon;" — 


IDA    NORMAN.  103 

"and,  will  you  permit  me  to  know,"  said  he,  "whom  I  hare 
ventured,  so  inexcusably,  to  annoy  with  my  private  history 
and  sentiments  ?" 

As  Mary  looked  at  the  card,  she  started,  and  turned  pale ; — 
the  stranger  was  shocked  ;  "  tell  me,  I  beseech  you,  is  there 
aught  in  that  name,  to  wound  your  feelings,  or  to  cause 
alarm  ?"  Tears  came  to  Mary's  relief,  and  she  exclaimed, 
"  Edwin  Tracy  was  my  brother.  Are  you  not  the  friend 
who  watched  over  him  in  his  dying  hours,  when  separated 
from  his  home  and  family  ?  Was  not  his  last  sigh  breathed 
in  your  arms  ?"  • 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  the  young  clergyman,  "  that  you 
are  that  Mary  Tracy,  the  sister  of  my  dear,  and  much 
lamented- friend,  whose  acquaintance  I  have  so  long  desired, 
yet  feared  to  make  ?" 

"You  must  come  home  with  me,  Mr.  Landon,"  said 
Mary,  "it  will  be  a  melancholy  pleasure  to  my  parents  to 
see  you,  and  hear  from  your  lipe,  the  sad  story  of  my  bro- 
ther's last  sufferings."" 

Edwin  Tracy  and  Samuel  Landon  were  class-mates  at 
Harvard  College.  Severe  application  to  study,  a  neglect  of 
his  physical  nature  while  cultivating  the  intellectual,  threw 
young  Tracy  into  a  hectic.  The  disease  was  so  insidious  in 
its  advances,  so  concealed  from  others  by  the  fortitude  of  the 
martyr-student,  that  until  he  was  dying,  none,  but  his  inti- 
mate friends,  knew  he  was  in  danger.  Landon  had  often 
warned  him,  often  urged  him  to  abandon  his  studies  and 
attend  to  the  care  of  his  health ;  he  had  often  kindly  threat- 
ened to  inform  his  family  of  the  symptoms  of  the  disease 
which  his  constitution  exhibited,  but  Edwin  insensible  to  his 
own  danger,  begged  that  his  friends  might  not  be  alarmed. 

Tracy  had  often  spoken  to  Landon  of  his  sister  Mary,  and 
dwelt  upon  the  beauties  of  her  character.  He  had  read  to 
his  friend,  Mary's  letters  filled  with  warm  and  gushing  ten- 
derness, and  expressive  of  the  purest  morality  combined  with 


104  IDA    NORMAN. 

devoted  piety.  He  had  often  expressed  the  wish  that  his 
dearest  friend,  and  his  lovely  sister  might  be  made  ac- 
quainted; he  had  planned,  that  on  a  following  vacation, 
Landon  should  go  home  with  him,  and  had  written  to  his 
sister  a  glowing  description  of  his  gifted  class-mate,  inform- 
ing her  of  his  contemplated  visit  to  their  father's  residence. 

But  in  quick  succession,  came  a  letter  from  Landon, 
himself,  to  Mr.  Tracy,  informing  him  of  the  dangerous  ill- 
ness of  his  son.  But  before  the  father,  with  all  possible 
haste,  could  reach  the  bed-side  of  the  martyr-student  he  was 
at  rest.  A  second  letter,  from  Landon  written  before  the 
arrival  of  the  sorrowing  father,  informed  the  family  of  their 
loss,  and  that  he  had  never  left  the  bed-side  of  the  departed 
during  his  sickness.  He  assured  them  of  the  triumphant 
faith  which  had  sustained  Edwin  in  the  last  great  conflict; 
and  gave  them  cheering  hope  that  death,  to  him,  was  gain. 
His  dying  messages  to  his  parents  and  sister  were  faithfully 
reported;  among  others  was  this,  "Tell  Mary,  that  you 
have  promised  me,  you  will  see  her,  and  talk  with  her  of 
the  death  bed  of  her  brother." 

This  solemn  promise  to  his  dying  friend,  had  not  been 
forgotten  by  Landon; — but  many  circumstances  had  hitherto 
prevented  its  fulfilment.  On  leaving  college,  he  had  entered 
on  his  course  of  theological  studies  in  New  England.  He 
was  poor,  and  not  able  to  afford  an  expensive  journey ; 
but  the  fulfilment  of  his  promise,  was  among  the  hopes 
which  illumined  his  path-way  in  the  progress  of  his  prepa- 
ration for  the  ministry. 

Recently  instituted  rector  of  a  church  in  New  York,  he 
had  not  yet  sought  the  desired  opportunity  of  forming  an 
acquaintance  with  the  family  of  his  lamented  college-friend. 
Mr. Tracy  was  spoken  of,  as  proud  and  haughty;  he  lived  in 
splendor,  and  his  house  was  thronged  by  the  crowds  who 
worship  wealth  and  grandeur.  "  His  daughter,  surrounded 
by  all  the  refinements  of  luxury,  and  the  elegances  of  life, 


IDA    NORMAN.  105 

has  doubtless,"  thought  Landon,  "forgotten  the  existence 
of  her  brother's  humble  friend." 

The  two  young  persons  had  met,  in  a  manner  quite 
unexpected,  and  interesting  to  both.  Congenial  in  their 
tastes  and  sentiments,  an  attachment  was  formed,  which  re- 
sulted in  their  union  for  life. 

Mr.  Tracy,  at  first,  opposed  a  connexion  for  his  daughter, 
which  so  little  gratified  his  ambitious  views.  He  had  rea- 
sons, confined  to  his  own  breast,  for  wishing  her  to  marry 
a  man  of  fortune.  During  a  period  of  speculation,  he  had 
risked,  and  lost,  an  immense  sum ;  his  own  circumstances 
had  of  late  changed,  and  he  'feared  a  bankruptcy  would  be 
his  fate,  as  it  had  been  that  of  many  others,  who,  like  him, 
had  been  regarded  as  possessing  unbounded  wealth.  Secret 
anxieties,  and  corroding  fears,  undermined  the  health  of  Mr. 
Tracy;  he  died,  and  to  the  surprise  of  all,  his  estate  was 
found  to  be  insolvent. 

The  portionless  Mary  Tracy,  dearer  to  the  heart  of  her 
betrothed,  from  her  sorrows,  was  urged  to  an  immediate 
marriage; — and,  with  a  dark,  and  uncertain  future  before 
them,  this  sensitive  and  interesting  pair  entered  into  the 
most  solemn  relation,  "  for  better  for  worse,  for  richer  for 
poorer."  But  in  this  case,  as  is  often  seen  in  life,  the  weaker 
party  proved  the  stronger.  Landon,  seeing  his  fragile 
and  delicate  wife  deprived  of  those  refinements  and  luxu- 
ries which  use  had  almost  rendered  necessary,  became 
depressed  in  spirit.  His  poetic  temperament  was  little  fitted 
for  a  world  of  stern  realities ; — the  ideal  region  in  which  he 
had  lived,  had  been  peopled  by  generous  and  noble  souls ; 
and  his  castles  in  the  air  had  excluded  all  that  was  coarse, 
and  material.  He,  now,  saw  his  beloved  Mary  obliged  to 
labor  beyond  her  strength,  sharing  with  him  a  miserable  sti- 
pend, grudgingly  paid  by  the  trading,  worldly  community 
to  whom  he  devoted  the  wealth  of  his  mind,  the  warmth 
and  fervor  of  his  soul.  Too  refined  and  spiritual  for  this 


106 


IDA     NORMAN. 


life  and  its  material  interests,  Samuel  Landon  passed  away, 
mature  in  virtue,  and  having  faithfully  accomplished  his 
mission  on  earth. 

"  What,  though  short  his  date? 
Virtue,  not  rolling  suns,  the  mind  matures, 
That  life  is  long,  which  answers  life's  great  end ; 
The  man  of  wisdom,  is  the  man  of  years." 

Let  the  daughters  of  affluence,  nurtured  in  the  lap  of  ease, 
and  surrounded  with  all  that  can  minister  to  human  enjoy- 
ment, sometimes  pause  to  think  of  the  "changes  and  chances" 
of  life!  Mary  Landon  was  no'w  a  widow;  and,  from  being 
a  benefactress  to  the  destitute,  her  condition  was  changed, 
to  that  of  a  dependent  on  the  charity  of  others. 

For  a  brief  space  of  time,  the  young  and  interesting  widow 
of  their  clergyman,  was  an  object  of  thought  to  some  of  his 
flock,  and  her  wants  were  cared  for.  But  Mrs.  Landon  well 
knew  that  on  herself,  alone,  rested  the  support  of  her 
fatherless  children.  Her  dying  husband,  with  his  last  breath, 
had  commended  her,  and  them,  to  Him,  who  has  given  His 
pledge,  to  be  "  the  Father  of  the  fatherless,  and  the  widow's 
God,"  and  she  confided,  fully,  in  the  protection  of  that  Al- 
mighty benefactor  and  friend.  Hers  was  not,  however,  a 
trust  which  led  to  the  belief  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  but 
wait  for  manifestations  of  God's  goodness.  She  believed 
she  should  be  assisted  in  the  attempt  to  perform  her  duties, 
and  wasted  not  the  energies  of  her  mind  in  useless  re- 
pinings,  nor  in  comparing  the  dark  and  stern  realities  of  life, 
with  its  brilliant  promises. 

Mrs.  Landon  had  inherited,  in  her  mother's  right,  a  small 
annuity.  This  she  sold,  and,  with  the  avails,  bought  the 
humble  tenement  which  has  been  described.  She  selected 
it,  because,  though  mean  in  appearance,  contrasted  with  the 
stately  palaces  in  its  vicinity,  it  was  still  exclusive.  It  ex- 
cluded somewhat  of  the  din  and  dust  of  the  more  crowded 
thoroughfares  of  the  city  ;  and,  standing  back  from  the  road, 


IDA    NORMAN.  107 

it  excluded,  in  a  great  degree,  the  observation  of  the  passers 
by ;  and  what,  to  Mrs.  Landon,  was  of  the  greatest  import- 
ance, it  excluded  from  companionship  with  her  children, 
such  as  she  might  wish  them  to  avoid.  Once  settled  in  her 
little,  obscure  mansion,  with  her  two  children  by  her  side, 
Mrs.  Landon  began  to  reflect  upon  the  means  by  which  she 
might  support  her  family.  Her  youngest  child  having  soon 
followed  its  father  to  the  grave,  she  had  now,  but  her  eldest 
son  and  an  only  daughter. 

With  her  early  friend,  Amelia  Walsingham,  she  had,  in 
all  her  changes  of  circumstances,  maintained  a  confidential 
intercourse.  The  very  contrasts  in  their  characters,  seemed, 
by  a  law  of  mental  affinity,  to  draw  them  more  closely  to- 
gether. In  the  desolation  of  widowhood,  Amelia  Walsing- 
ham (then  Mrs.  Newton,)  had  been  induced  to  engage  in  re- 
sponsible duties,  which  obliged  her  to  keep  up  an  intercourse 
with  the  world,  and  to  exhibit  masculine  resolution,  at  va- 
riance with  her  delicate  sensibility.  But  Mrs.  Newton  was 
impelled  by  the  energies  of  her  mind  to  be  active,  and  her 
principles  demanded  the  sacrifice  of  her  feelings.  Conscious 
of  possessing  rare  powers  of  mind,  she  dared  not  thank- 
lessly bury  her  talents,  nor  shrink  from  the  duties  such  gifts 
imposed  upon  her. 

Mary  Tracy  was  timid  in  her  disposition,  and  reserved 
towards  all,  except  such  as  she  admitted  to  the  sanctuary 
of  her  heart's  rich  affections.  To  Mrs.  Newton's  sugges- 
tion that  her  accomplished  education  would  enable  her  to 
succeed  as  an  instructor  of  the  young,  Mrs.  Landon  replied, 
u  that,  though  she  might  possess  the  ability  to  teach,  her 
intuitive  dread  of  the  observation  of  strangers,  and  her  na- 
tural reserve  of  character,  were  insurmountable  objections." 

"  Any  thing,"  said  she  to  Mrs.  Newton,  "  that  I  can  do, 
by  myself,  I  am  willing  to  attempt.  I  can  draw  and  paint; 
and  can  do  ornamental  work,  or  plain  sewing.  I  could 
pursue  such  employments,  at  home,  with  my  children  by 


108  IDA    NORMAN. 

me,  and  none  about  us  to  interfere  with  our  mutual  confi- 
dence, or  disturb  our  domestic  arrangements.  To  you, 
Amelia,  a  more  distinguished  course  is  opened.  You  have 
the  energy,  and  the  strength  of  character  to  pursue  your 
higher  destiny.  I  can  admire,  but  not  follow  you ;  nor  do 
I  envy  (were  it  possible  for  me  to  envy  you)  your  elevation. 
The  storms  that  beat  upon  you,  in  your  higher  position, 
will  not  descend  to  my  lowly  abode;  the  stings  of  injus- 
tice, and  ingratitude  which  pierce  you,  exposed,  from  so 
many  points,  I  shall  be  preserved  from,  by  my  obscurity." 

Mrs.  Newton,  feeling  but  too  deeply  the  truth  of  these 
remarks,  the  more  readily  acquiesced  in  the  humble  views  of 
Mrs.  Landon,  respecting  herself. 

Years  had  passed  on.  Mrs.  Landon  in  her  cottage,  had, 
in  various  ways,  labored  successfully.  The  exquisite  man- 
ner in  which  her  ornamental  needle-work  was  performed, 
always  secured  for  it  a  ready  sale  among  the  upholsterers, 
who  were  glad  to  buy  her  elegant  designs,  for  the  covering 
of  chairs,  and  ottomans.  Her  embroidered  handkerchiefs 
were  purchased  by  Broadway  merchants,  and  sold  as  the 
latest  Parisian  importations. 

Mrs.  Selby  was  among  the  very  few  of  Mrs.  Landon's 
former  acquaintances,  who  were  conscious,  that  the  elegant, 
beautiful,  and  once  admired  Mary  Tracy,  was  a  poor  wi- 
dow, living  in  obscurity,  and  dependent  on  the  labor  of  her 
hands,  for  the  support  of  her  family.  Mrs.  Selby,  notwith- 
standing she  had  always  enjoyed  prosperity  herself,  had  a 
sympathising  heart,  and  was  a  judicious  friend.  To  her 
friendly  efforts,  Mrs.  Landon,  without  knowing  it,  had  been 
indebted  for  many  kind  offices.  It  was  Mrs.  Selby  who  had 
informed  Mrs.  Norman  where  Mary  Tracy  lived,  and  who 
had  induced  that  lady  to  employ  her  in  doing  fine  needle- 
work. 

Very  different,  indeed,  was  the  deportment  of  Mrs.  Nor- 
man towards  an  early  school-mate,  and  one  with  whom  she 


IDA    NORMAN. 

had  once  been  proud  to  associate,  from  that  of  the  noble- 
minded  Mrs.  Newton,  and  the  sensible  Mrs.  Selby. 

There  are  some,  who  seem  not  to  be  able  to  enjoy  for- 
tune, or  elevation,  except  in  the  humiliation  of  those  less 
favored.  Of  all  Mrs.  Landon's  trials  from  the  world,  few 
had  been  so  bitter  to  her,  as  the  patronizing  air  of  Mrs.  Nor- 
man, when  she  came  to  give  orders  respecting  her  work. 
On  her  first  visit  she  did,  indeed,  recognize  in  Mrs.  Landon 
an  acquaintance.  "  Who  would  have  thought,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "  that  had  seen  you  mistress  of  your  father's  ele- 
gant establishment,  that  you  would  ever  have  been  so  re- 
duced as  to  be  obliged  to  live  in  a  house  like  this; — you  had 
an  elegant  harp  and  piano,  what  has  become  of  them  ?" 

Mrs.  Landon  colored,  but  answered  with  as  much  firm- 
ness as  she  could  command,  "  Excuse  me  Mrs.  Norman 
for  not  attempting  explanations,  which,  though  useless  to 
you,  would  be  very  painful  to  myself."  "  You  are  quite 
excusable,"  said  Mrs.  Norman,  "of  course  it  does  not  con- 
cern me,  only  I  am  very  sorry  to  see  one  who  has  been  in 
the  very  first  society,  now  reduced  to  a  level  with  the  low- 
est classes." 

"  Is  your  call  one  of  business  ?"  said  Mrs.  Landon,  with 
calm  dignity,  "  my  time  is  of  consequence ;  if  you  have  any 
orders,  I  shall  be  happy  to  execute  them." 

Mrs.  Norman  was  abashed ;  she  felt  that  Mrs.  Landon, 
low,  as  she  had  been  disposed  to  class  her  in  society,  was 
her  superior  in  all,  except  in  outward  circumstances.  She 
handed  hej  a  package  of  the  finest  linen,  desiring  her  to 
embroider  six  pocket  handkerchiefs  like  the  one  she  had 
done  for  Mrs.  Selby. 

"  If  I  do  them,  my  price  will  be  twenty  dollars  each,  said 
Mrs.  Landon ;  "  the  work  is  very  elaborate,  and  has  proved 
injurious  to  my  eyes.  I  have  feared  I  should  not  be  able  to 
do  any  more  of  this  kind  of  work." 

"  I  don't  mind  the  price,"  said  Mrs.  Norman.  « I  suppose 
10 


110  IDA  NORMAN. 

you  can  do  them  for  me,  as  well  as  for  Mrs.  Selby ;  I  can 
afford  to  pay  as  much  as  she  can.  She  recommended  me 
to  come  here,  and  I  presumed  you  would  be  very  thankful 
to  get  employment." 

Willie  and  Laura  were,  at  this  period,  old  enough  to  un- 
derstand something  of  their  mother's  trials  ;  the  one,  sitting 
with  his  book,  and  the  other  at  her  work,  had  heard  this 
conversation.  They  had  been  surprised  at  the  ostentatious, 
patronizing  air  of  Mrs.  Norman  towards  their  mother, 
usually  approached  with  so  much  respect,  even  by  strangers, 
who,  if  possessed  of  any  penetration,  or  knowledge  of  the 
world,  never  failed  to  be  struck  with  the  refinement  and  dig- 
nity of  her  manners. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Norman  had  left  the  house,  Willie  ex- 
claimed, "  Mother,  1  think  she  is  an  impertinent  woman ; 
why  did  you  not  tell  her  to  take  away  her  handkerchiefs  ?" 
Laura  stood  by  her  mothers  side,  and  clasping  her  hand 
looked  wistfully  in  her  eyes,  where  the  big  tears  stood 
trembling.  Mrs.  Landon  seldom  gave  way  to  her  emotions, 
but  her  wounded  heart  now  found  vent  in  a  flood  of  tears ; 
and  seating  herself,  and  taking  a  hand  of  each  of  her  children, 
she  sought  to  calm  their  feelings,  and,  in  so  doing,  became 
herself  composed. 

Years  had  elapsed  since  that  period,  and  Mrs.  Landon 
in  her  humble  dwelling  was  still  the  same,  industrious, 
patient,  and  resigned.  It  had  been  a  great  trial  to  part  with 
her  daughter;  but  she  highly  appreciated  the  advantages 
of  education  offered  her  by  Mrs.  Newton,  and.  cheerfully 
bore  the  loss  of  her  society  and  assistance.  William  was, 
now,  receiving  a  small  salary  as  clerk,  besides  the  payment 
for  his  board ;  and  was  thus  able  to  do  something  towards 
lightening  the  burthens  of  his  mother. 

Mrs.  Landon  had  for  some  time  been  anxiously  expect- 
ing the  return  of  William  from  Science  Hall.  The  tea-table 
was  set  and  the  kettle  hissing  by  the  fire,  when  Serena,  the 


IDA    NORMAN.  Ill 

humble  friend,  companion,  and  servant  of  Mrs.  Landon.  who 
had  been  looking  out  of  the  window  once  in  five  minutes, 
for  the  last  two  hours,  exclaimed,  "  Willie  is  coming,  he  is 
bringing  home  company; — a  very  fine  looking  youth,  of 
about  his  own  age." 

Mrs.  Landon  had  scarcely  time  for  a  remark,  before  the 
outer  door  opened  into  the  little  front  entry,  and  her  son, 
witli  Louis  Norman,  appeared.  It  had  been  some  years 
since  Mrs.  Landon  had  seen  Louis,  and,  at  first,  she  did  not 
recognize  him. 

"  Mother,"  said  William,  with  a  slight  embarrassment, 
"  this  is  Louis  Norman,  he  has  come  to  stay  with  us,  over 
Sunday." 

Mrs.  Landon's  countenance  expressed,  for  the  moment, 
some  surprise,  but  touched  with  the  air  of  sadness  that  was 
perceptible  in  the  countenance  of  the  young  man,  she  ex- 
tended her  hand  to  him,  and  with  much  tenderness  said,  "  It 
will  give  me  much  pleasure,  Master  Norman,  to  entertain 
you,  if  you  can  put  up  with  our  humble  accommodations." 

Louis  pressed  her  hand  in  silence;  but,  at  length,  sum- 
moning resolution,  he  briefly  related  that  his  mother  was 
dead,  his  father  a  bankrupt  and  dishonored,  and  himself  and 
sister  left  friendless  upon  the  world.  "Not  friendless 
while  I  live  Louis,"  said  William;  "mother,  you  will,  I 
know,  be  his  and  Ida's  mother ;  and  she  is  now  as  a  sister 
to  Laura." 

Mrs.  Landon,  much  moved  by  the  simple,  but  affecting 
story  of  Louis,  assured  him  of  the  deep  interest  she  should 
feel  in  him  and  his  sister.  "  But  our  sympathy,  Louis,  can 
be  of  little  use  to  you.  Are  there  not,  among  the  powerful 
and  distinguished  friends  of  your  family,  some,  to  whom  you 
can  look  for  assistance,  in  helping  you  forward  in  life  ?" 

"  I  shall  ask  for  none,"  said  Louis,  "  I  will  be  no  cringing 
suppliant  for  favor,  at  the  doors  of  the  great.  My  father's 
former  friends  will,  now,  be  his  bitterest  enemies  ;  for  he  had 


112  IDA    NORMAN. 

few,  but  political  friends,  and  as  he  has  no  longer  influence 
to  aid  his  party,  they  will  wish  to  hear  of  him  no  more. 
No,  my  father's  name  and  distinction  will  but  render  the 
disgrace  of  his  family  the  more  conspicuous  and  fatal." 

Serena,  who  had  busied  herself  in  completing  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  simple  meal,  summoned  the  family  to  the  table, 
seating  herself  opposite  Mrs.  Landon,  while  the  young  men 
were  placed  on  the  vacant  sides.  Mrs.  Landon  looked  at 
William,  as  if  to  signify  that  they  should  follow  their  usual 
custom ;  and  in  a  solemn  tone,  "  The  only  son  of  his  mother, 
and  she  a  widow,"  implored  a  blessing  on  the  repast.  Not- 
withstanding the  weight  which  pressed  on  the  heart  of 
Louis,  he  felt  himself  becoming  calm  and  resigned  under 
the  influence  of  the  scene.  The  perfect  confidence  which 
seemed  to  exist  between  Mrs.  Landon  and  her  son,  the  air 
of  contentment  which  reigned  throughout  the  little  house- 
hold, with  the  comfort,  neatness,  and  even  taste,  which  were 
exhibited  in  the  arrangement  of  the  simple  furniture;  all 
was  refreshing  to  his  spirit.  He  thought  of  the  splendid 
dining  rooms,  saloons  and  boudoirs  of  his  early  home ;  and 
of  the  gloomy  ambition  of  his  father;  the  listlessness  and 
indifference  of  his  mother,  with  her  occasional,  bitter  com- 
plainings at  the  little  attention  paid  her  by  his  father — and 
he  said  to  himself,  "what  is  life  without  love,  and  with  it 
what  condition  may  not  be  borne  ?" 

Mrs.  Landon  became  more  and  more  interested  in  Louis 
as  she  watched  the  varying  shades  of  his  countenance,  and 
with  ready  tact,  perceived  that  he  felt  himself  at  home  with 
them.  She  did  not,  for  one  moment,  reflect  on  the  needless 
pain  which  Mrs.  Norman  had  formerly  caused  her,  by  her 
unfeeling  remarks  and  condescending  airs ;  she  regarded  her 
son  with  the  tenderness  that  she  would  have  wished  should 
be  felt  for  her  own  Willie,  were  he  in  affliction  and  want. 

The  rest  and  quiet  of  the  Sabbath  proved  as  balm  to  the 
wounded  heart  of  Louis.  He  attended  the  worship  of  the 


IDA    NORMAN.  113 

sanctuary  with  Mrs.  Landon,  and  heard  a  discourse  that 
deeply  affected  him,  from  the  words,  "I  write  unto  you, 
young  men,  because  ye  are  strong,  and  have  overcome 
the  wicked  one."  It  seemed  to  Louis  as  if  the  speaker 
addressed  him  personally,  so  suited  were  his  words  to 
strengthen  and  comfort  the  bruised  heart,  and  to  make  a 
spiritual  improvement  of  the  trials  and  sufferings  of  this  life. 

Mrs.  Landon  had  foreborn  to  ask  Louis  respecting  his 
plans,  intending  after  the  Sabbath  was  over,  to  introduce  the 
subject,  and  make  such  suggestions  as,  in  her  judgment, 
might  be  useful  to  him.  But  Louis  having  left  with  William 
an  apology  to  be  delivered  to  Mrs.  Landon  for  leaving  her 
house  at  so  early  an  hour,  had  departed  just  as  the  faint 
rays  of  the  sun  were  tinting  the  eastern  horizon.  Good 
Serena  was  sweeping  the  passage,  as  Louis  entered  it  to  pass 
out  at  the  street  door.  He  paused  to  bid  her  good  morning, 
for  her  kind  manner  had  touched  his  heart. 

"You  will  be  back  to  breakfast,  Mr.  Norman?"  said 
Serena. 

"No,"  said  Louis,  with  a  sigh,  "you  must  not  expect 
me;  I  am  going  out  into  the  world  to  seek  my  fortune. 
Good-bye,  Serena ;  do  not  forget  me." 

Thus  did  Louis  go  forth  into  the  streets  of  the  city,  im* 
patient  to  begin  his  business  operations. 


10* 


114  IDA    NORMAN. 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

EARLY    DAY   IN    NEW   YORK. LOUIS*    FIRST     ADVENTURE. 

O.v  reaching  Broadway  Louis  found  his  impatience  had 
led  him  there  too  early.  He  wished  to  find  a  jeweller's 
shop,  but  none  were  yet  opened.  The  carts  of  the  milk 
venders  were  seen  passing  in  the  streets ;  the  little  chimney- 
sweeps were  trilling  forth  their  peculiar  notes ;  here  and 
there,  an  industrious  servant  was  seen  washing  the  marble 
steps  of  a  princely  dwelling,  or  an  idle  one  holding  on  by 
the  street  door,  and  gossiping  with  a  neighbor's  servant  loi- 
tering on  an  errand.  Market-wagons  rattled  through  the 
streets ;  and  hacks  towering  with  travelling-trunks  and  car- 
pet-bags, and  filled  with  gentlemen  in  surtouts,  and  ladies 
with  travelling  dresses  and  green  veils,  were  seen  going 
in  various  directions  to  the  depots  of  steamboats  and  rail- 
road cars. 

Louis  looked  to  see  if  one  face  betokened  sadness  like 
his  own,  but  all  appeared  to  him,  happy.  "The  poor  chim- 
ney sweep,"  thought  he,  "  has  some  home  to  go  to,  when 
his  daily  toil  is  over.  I  am  a  wanderer  and  an  adventurer, 
embarked  on  an  unknown  sea,  not  knowing  the  course  be- 
fore me,  or  the  rocks  upon  which  I  may  be  driven."  Tears 
filled  the  eyes  of  Louis  and  his  courage  had  well  nigh  failed, 
but  the  supporting  arm  of  faith  was  held  out  to  sustain 
him;  and  with  a  smile  of  hope,  he  whispered  to  himself, 
"My  Father's  at  the  helm." 

As  the  morning  advanced,  seamstresses,  clerks,  and  men 
of  business  began  to  appear ;  omnibusses  rattled  through  the 
streets,  and  New  York,  as  a  giant  refreshed  with  sleep,  was 
awake,  and  in  motion. 

Louis  soon  saw  a  jeweller's  shop,  open ;  he  entered,  and 


IDA    NOIIMAN.  115 

perceiving  a  young  clerk,  who  stood  by  the  counter  rub- 
bing his  eyes,  he  inquired,  "Is  the  master  of  the  shop 
within  r"  for  as  he  wished  to  make  sale  of  his  watch  and 
some  other  articles  of  value,  he  supposed  a  clerk  might  not 
be  the  proper  person  to  address. 

"How  do  you  know,  mister,  but  I  am  the  boss  ?"  replied 
the  hopeful  youth,  "  I  guess  you  hain't  seen  through  a 
mill-stone  yet,  for  all  your  fine  broadcloth." 

"A  bad  beginning,"  thought  poor  Louis,  as  in  anguish  of 
heart,  and  without  answering,  he  turned  away.  He  walked 
on,  and  entered  another  shop.  A  man  with  sandy-red  hair 
and  whiskers  stood  waiting  for  customers  prepared  to 
pounce  upon  his  victim,  somewhat  as  grimalkin  may  be 
seen  watching  for  a  mouse.  Louis  did  not  like  the  aspect 
of  the  man,  but  was  anxious  to  accomplish  his  business ; 
and  he  asked,  somewhat  hesitatingly,  if  he  wished  to  buy  a 
gold  watch,  and  diamond  ring  and  pin. 

Looking  inquisitively  and  suspiciously  at  Louis,  the 
jeweller  said,  "Let  me  look  at  'em,  I  can  tell  better 
whether  I'll  buy,  after  I've  seen  'em."  Louis  handed  the 
box  containing  the  articles,  and  the  man  grasping  them 
closely,  said,  "I'll  see  what  you  have  got  here;  no  doubt, 
though,  they  are  either  false,  or  stolen  goods." 

A  feeling  of  resentment  rose  in  the  breast  of  Louis,  suf- 
focating and  oppressive.  As  the  jeweller  was  opening  the 
box,  he  continued,  "You  are  rather  a  young  rogue,  but  I'll 
examine  your  trumpery,  and  see  if  'tis  good  for  any  thing." 
As  the  rich  diamonds,  with  the  heavy  chased  watch  and 
chain  of  solid  gold,  met  the  eye  of  the  man,  he  grasped 
them  still  closer,  exclaiming,  "  I  said,  if  they  were  not  false, 
you  must  have  stolen  them ;  I  pronounce  them  to  be  genu- 
ine, and  this  proves  you  are  a  thief.  You  expect  me  to 
buy  these  things,  do  you?  You  need  be  thankful  if  I 
do  not  seize  you,  and  send  for  an  officer  of  the  police  to 
put  you  in  prison." 


116  IDA    NORMAN. 

Louis  was  thunder-struck ;  the  possibility  of  such  an  ac- 
cusation had  never  occurred  to  him — his  property  in  the 
hands  of  a  villain,  and  himself  liable  to  be  taken  up  as  a 
thief!  The  dangers  of  his  situation  flashed  upon  his  mind ; 
but  conscious  innocence  gave  him  courage,  and  prudence 
suggested  the  necessity  of  suppressing  his  indignation. 

"  If  you  do  not  wish  to  buy  these  articles,  sir,"  said  Louis 
with  dignity,  "  you  will  at  least  return  them  to  me ;  they 
are  all  I  am  worth  in  the  world,  and  I  wanted  to  sell  them 
to  pay  a  debt." 

"Now,  young  man,"  said  the  shopkeeper,  "you  need 
not  attempt  to  come  over  me,  in  this  way ;  I  have  seen  rogues 
before  you.  Folks  dont  give  boys  such  jewelry  as  this ; 
you  may  as  well  be  honest  with  me,  and  own  where  you 
got  these  things ;  and,  between  ourselves,  if  you  will  just  be 
candid  and  confess,  I'll  try  to  keep  you  away  from  the 
police,  (which  will  be  no  very  easy  matter,  for  they  are 
cunning  enough,  I  tell  you)  and  we'll  go  snacks." 

The  baseness  of  the  man  struck  Louis  with  horror.  He 
saw  that  it  was  useless  to  urge  him  to  restore  his  property, 
for  he  clutched  the  box,  closer  and  closer,  and  his  eyes 
became  more  and  more  glowing,  and  serpent-like.  A  sudden 
thought  occurred  to  Louis; — "and  so,  you  will  give  me  part 
of  the  money,  and  screen  me  from  punishment,  if  I  confess 
where  I  got  these  things;  it  is  rather  hard,  but  I  will  go  and 
see  what  somebody  else  says  about  it,  and  let  you  know." 

"Who  do  you  mean  by  somebody  else,  you  young 
rogue  ?  and  so  you've  got  an  accomplice,  have  you  ?  You 
must  be  well  trained  in  your  business,  to  get  at  such  trea- 
sures. Well,  every  body  has  talents  for  something ;  if  I  had 
not  taken  to  an  honest  calling,  I  think  I  should  have  made 
a  pretty  cunning  rogue,  myself." 

The  man  chuckling  at  what  he  meant  for  wit,  again  con- 
templated the  tempting  contents  of  the  box;  when  he 
looked  up,  Louis  had  disappeared. 


IDA    NORMAN.  117 

CHAPTER    XX. 

EPISODE    OF    MRS.    GOODWIN    AND    HER   SON    TOM. 

As  Louis  escaped  from  the  wicked  jeweller,  he  had  the 
precaution  to  make  a  memorandum  of  the  number  of  the 
shop,  with  the  name  on  the  sign.  So  sudden  had  been  this 
new  misfortune,  that,  until  he  had  walked  some  little  d^tance, 
instinctively  desiring  to  escape  from  the  presence  of  a  villain, 
he  had  formed  no  plan,  whatever,  for  attempting  to  recover 
his  property.  The  thought  of  Mrs.  Newton's  interest  in 
him,  and  of  the  kindness  of  the  Landons  presented  itself; 
but  he  rejected  the  idea  of  troubling  them,  in  an  affair  where 
they  could  give  him  no  assistance. 

The  effect  of  this  new  misfortune  was  not  to  sink  Louis 
into  a  state  of  despondency;  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  seemed 
animated  with  new  resolution ;  his  object  now  was  no 
longer,  one  from  which  his  heart  revolted,  the  disposing  of 
what  was  dear  to  him  from  a  thousand  associations ;  but  to 
recover  those  valued  gifts  from  the  grasp  of  a  knave,  and  to 
bring  him  to  justice;  and  now,  that  he  was  called  upon  to  act 
a  manly  part,  his  spirit  grew  strong  within  him.  He  was 
certain  there  was  a  way  in  which  he  could  recover  his 
property,  though  too  little  versed  in  legal  operations  to  un- 
derstand, exactly,  how  to  proceed.  His  teachers  and  school- 
companions  could  prove  the  articles  to  be  his,  as  the  pos- 
session of  such  valuables  by  a  school  boy,  had  been  a  fact 
of  some  notoriety,  and  Louis  had  often  been  requested  to 
exhibit  them  as  curiosities. 

But  though  his  redress  must  be  sought  for  in  the  law, 
Louis  had  no  money  to  fee  a  lawyer;  he  had  given  his  last 
dollar  to  his  sister,  when  he  left  her  in  her  sick  room,  on 
Saturday.  Searching  his  pockets,  he  found  a  few  pennies, 


118  IDA   NORMAN. 

which  he  regarded  with  more  satisfaction,  than  once  he 
would  have  felt,  at  the  possession  of  heaps  of  gold.  He 
began  to  feel  faint  and  hungry,  and  these  pennies  would 
enable  him  to  buy  some  bread  for  his  breakfast; — the 
thought  of  Dr.  Franklin,  eating  his  penny-roll  in  the  streets 
of  Philadelphia  occurred  to  him,  and  hope  again  gave 
him  courage.  Looking  about  for  an  eating  house,  he  saw, 
in  a  window,  a  cooky  and  a  loaf  of  bread ;  and  entering 
the  little  shop  to  which  they  furnished  a  sign,  he  addressed 
a  gooa-natured  looking  woman,  as  he  laid  down  his  pennies, 
desiring  her  to  give  him  a  roll.  The  woman  surprised  at 
seeing  a  youth  of  his  appearance  enter  her  little  shop  which 
was  chiefly  frequented  by  the  poor,  and  that  he  should  only 
call  for  bread,  asked  him  if  he  would  not  also  take  a  cup 
of  coffee — the  coffee  was  tempting,  but  Louis  had  no  more 
pennies,  and  declined  the  luxury. 

"  You  had  better  take  it  young  man,"  said  the  woman, 
observing  that  Louis  looked  wistfully  towards  the  coffee-pot, 
"dry  bread  won't  taste  very  good." 

"1  have  no  more  money,  good  woman,"  said  Louis. 

u  Well,  I  hope  you  won't  be  affronted  with  me  if  I  ax 
you  to  take  the  coffee ;  I  don't  think  I  should  ever  be  the 
poorer  for't;  you  look  tired,  and  had  better  come  and  set 
down  and  rest,  while  you  drink  your  coffee." 

"  Thank  God,"  mentally  exclaimed  Louis,  as  he  grate- 
fully accepted  the  proffered  kindness,  that  disinterested  be- 
nevolence exists  among  mankind.  "  You  are  very  kind," 
said  he  to  the  woman,  "and  just  now,  I  have  great  need  of 
friends." 

"  I  was  afeard  you  did,"  said  the  woman,  "  you  looked 
sort  o'  troubled,  and  that  was  what  made  me  venter  to  ax 
you  to  take  the  coffee.  I  should  be  dreadful  sorry  if  Tom 
Goodwin,  (Tom's  my  son,  and  I  guess  he  is  about  your 
age,)  should  want  for  sunthen  to  eat  and  drink,  and  nobody 


IDA    NORMAN.  119 

warn't  willen  to  give  none  to  him,  'kase  he  did'nt  have  no 
money  to  pay  for't." 

"  What  does  your  Tom  do,  for  a  living,  kind  woman  ?" 
said  Louis,  "  for  I  suppose  he  has  to  labor." 

"To  be  sure  Master  he  does;  for  you  see,  as  how, 
Tom's  the  oldest  of  ten  children,  for  I  am  a  widder,  and  his 
daddy's  ben  dead  a  good  many  years,  and  Tom's  ben  all 
my  dependence." 

"  But,"  said  Louis,  "  what  could  Tom  do  when  he  was  a 
little  boy,  for  you  say  he  is  only  about  my  age  now,  to  earn 
money  to  help  you  to  support  the  other  children  ?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  Tom  got  into  the  newspaper  line,  and 
as  he  was  a  good  behaved  boy  and  all'us  mannerly,  folks 
would  suntimes  buy  to  encourage  him ;  or  them  that  had 
plenty  o'  money,  would  give  him  a  sixpence,  or  a  shillin  for 
a  penny  paper,  and  tell  him  he  might  keep  the  change  him- 
self for  his  good  manners.  And  the  newspaper  folks  when 
they  see'd  that  Tom  all'us  paid  for  his  papers,  trusted  him 
more,  and  gin  him  a  chance ;  and  you  can't  think  how  com- 
fortable it  was  to  his  poor  widdered  mother,  to  have  her  little 
boy  bring  home,  at  night,  a  heap  of  pennies,  and  suntimes 
a  hull  dollar,  clear  of  all  expense.  Besides  sellin  papers, 
which  he  done  mostly  in  the  mornins  and  evenins  when  the 
boats  was  startin  oft^  he  use'ter  run  of  arrants,  and  made  a 
good  deal  in  that  way,  as  jinerus  folks  would  give  him  a  few 
pennies  for  callin  a  carriage,  or  carr'in  a  bundle." 

"But  now,  my  good  woman,"  said  Louis,  "Tom  is  older, 
what  does  he  do  ?  does  he  still  sell  papers  ?" 

Mrs.  Goodwin's  face  brightened,  "  I'd  be  sorry  to  have 
you  ax  Tom  that,  for  though  he  ain't  ashamed  of  his  former 
callin,  he  don't  say  much  about  it.  Tom  is  now,  the  iditur 
of  one  of  the  very  papers  he  used  to  sell,  and  gits  a  good 
salary,  but  he  works  jist  as  hard  as  ever;  he's  up  airly  and 
late,  and  watches  the  forin  vessels  for  news  as  close  as  he 
use'ter  watch  the  startin  off  of  the  steamboats  and  cars ;  and 


120  IDA    NORMAN. 

they  do  say,  Tom  is  sunthin  of  a  politishun,  and  like  enuff 
suiuime  or  'nother  he  will  git  into  office." 

"I  would  advise  Tom,"  said  Louis,  "to  keep  out  of  poli- 
tics, and  beware  of  a  taste  for  office ;  he  had  better  have  kept 
to  selling  newspapers,  for  that  is  an  honest  calling,  than  be 
an  office-seeker."  Louis  rose  to  go,  and  taking  the  woman's 
hard  hand  pressed  it,  gratefully,  thanking  her  for  her  kind- 
ness, not  with  words  merely,  but  with  eyes  moistened  with 
tears  of  gratitude.  "I  hope,"  said  he,  "for  his  mother's 
sake  that  Tom  will  be  a  good  and  prosperous  man ;  and  in 
return  for  your  kindness  to  a  stranger  in  want,  I  will  ask 
you  to  tell  your  son,  that  you  fed,  this  morning,  the  hungry 
son  of  a  man  who  has  held  the  first  offices  in  the  country ; 
and  who,  but  for  politics,  and  success  in  his  schemes  of 
political  distinction,  might  have  been  the  protector  of  his 
children,  who  are  now,  with  habits  wholly  unfitted  to  do 
any  thing  for  themselves,  thrown  upon  the  world  with  a  dis- 
honored name  f" 

Louis  staid  not  to  hear  Mrs.  Goodwin's  exclamation  of 
"  the  dreadful  suz !  you  don't  say  so !  I  hope  Tom  won't  git 
to  be  a  great  man,  if  that's  the  way  with  'um,  to  let  their 
descendrants  go  about  hungry,  like  wagabounds.  Well  he's 
a  ra'al  nice  young  man,  and  its  a  despret  pity  his  suffrins  is 
so  great  on  his  daddy's  account." 


IDA    NORMAN.  121 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

AN    HONEST    LAWYER. LOUIS    FINDS    A    FRIEND. 

THE  bitter  reflections  called  up  in  the  mind  of  Louis,  by 
the  train  of  thought  into  which  he  had  unconsciously  been 
led  by  Mrs.  Goodwin's  simple  account  of  her  son  Tom,  for 
the  moment  depressed  his  spirit; — but  strengthened  by  his 
simple  breakfast  and  cheered  by  the  beams  of  the  morning 
sun,  hope  again  found  him  ready  to  welcome  her  sugges- 
tions, and  he  nerved  himself  to  -go  onward  in  the  business 
before  him.  He  saw  the  necessity  for  prompt  measures  in 
order  to  get  his  property  out  of  the  hands  of  the  wicked 
jeweller,  who,  he  perceived,  rested  his  hopes  of  receiving  at 
least  a  large  share,  upon  the  belief  that  the  articles  were 
stolen,  and  that  being  a  thief,  he  would  not  dare  to  take  any 
measures  for  their  recovery.  The  idea  that  even  a  dis- 
honest man  should,  for  a  moment,  look  upon  him  as  a  thief, 
humbled  the  pride  of  Louis.  He  had  been  brought  up  to 
think  that  among  the  higher  classes,  there  was  a  certain  air 
distingue  which  would  inspire  respect,  under  any  circum- 
stances. The  events  of  the  morning  had  proved  that  he 
was  as  liable  to  suspicion,  under  suspicious  circumstances,  as 
would  have  been  Mrs.  Goodwin's  son,  Tom.  He  perceived 
that  his  superfine  coat,  rich  vest,  and  cap  and  boots  of  the 
most  fashionable  patterns,  had  proved  a  disadvantage  to  him 
in  his  first  setting  out  in  life. 

The  idea  of  applying  to  a  lawyer  though  discouraged  by 
the  emptiness  of  his  pockets,  was  still  uppermost  in  the 
mind  of  Louis;  and  he  had  almost  unconsciously  directed 
his  steps  into  a  street  where  several  eminent  lawyers  resided. 
The  name,  "Ashburn,"  caught  his  eye  as  he  was  walking 
11 


122  IDA    NORMAN. 

past  a  stately  mansion.  A  thrill  of  joy  followed  the  sight 
of  that  name. 

Mr.  Ashburn,  of  all  his  father's  former,  professed  friends, 
was  the  one  whom  Louis  remembered  with  satisfaction. 
Mr.  Ashburn,  he  thought  sincere,  for  he  had  heard  him  cau- 
tion and  advise  his  father,  when  they  had  regarded  him  as 
too  young  to  notice  conversation  on  political  subjects. 

Though  Louis  had  been  resolved  to  look  to  no  one  for 
aid  or  patronage,  his  circumstances  were  now  pressing  and 
admitted  of  no  alternative;  "I  may  meet  with  coldness  or 
be  suspected,"  thought  he,  "  but  it  is  possible  the  recollec- 
tion of  my  father  in  his  better  days,  may  induce  a  friendly 
interest  for  his  son.  There  are  a  thousand  chances  against 
me,  but  if  Mr.  Ashburn  is  really  a  good  man,  happens  to  be 
disengaged  and  does  not  consider  me  an  impostor,  he  may 
listen  to  my  story ;  and  if  he  is  in  a  pleasant  humor,  he 
may  be  willing  to  take  some  trouble  on  my  account.  I  can 
but  try  my  chance." 

Louis  ascended  the  marble  steps  which  led  to  the  office 
of  Counsellor  Ashburn,  and  with  trembling  hand  pulled  the 
bell.  A  servant  came,  and  to  the  inquiry  for  Mr.  Ashburn, 
replied,  "  his  honor  does  not  receive  company  so  early,  he 
has  not  yet  taken  his  breakfast." 

"True,"  thought  Louis,  "I  might  have  known  it;  strange 
that  I  should  have  forgotten  the  late  hours  of  those  who 
live  in  fashionable  style." 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Ashburn  as  soon  as  possible,"  said 
Louis  to  the  servant,  "  will  you  permit  me  to  wait  in  his 
office  until  he  can  give  me  an  interview  ?" 

The  servant  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  if  scrutinizing  the 
applicant,  in  order  to  make  up  his  mind  whether  it  would 
be  safe  to  admit  him  into  the  interior  of  the  mansion,  and 
then  said,  "  you  can  come  in,  I  believe  some  of  the  clerks 
are  in  the  office."  Louis  followed,  and  was  ushered  into  a 
spacious  apartment  whose  walls  were  lined  with  splendid 


IDA    NORMAN. 

cases  filled  with  books  in  every  variety  of  binding,  from 
the  plain  calf  of  "  Digests,"  "  Reports,"  "  Pleadings,"  &c., 
to  the  more  elegant  volumes  of  Foreign,  and  English 
Literature.  Statues  of  distinguished  jurists  were  placed  in 
niches  in  the  wall,  and  a  few  portraits  of  celebrated  men 
were  suspended  over  the  book-cases. 

Seated  at  different  writing  desks  were  two  young  men,  so 
much  engaged  in  their  employment  of  copying  from  huge 
rolls  of  parchment,  that  they  did  not  notice  the  entrance  of 
a  stranger,  until  the  servant,  pointing  to  a  seat,  said  to 
Louis,  "Please  wait  here  until  Mr.  Ashburn  is  ready  to 
come  to  the  office."  The  clerks  looking  up,  beheld  a  tall 
and  finely  formed  young  man,  apparently  about  eighteen, 
of  an  elegant  and  prepossessing  appearance,  but  whose  coun 
tenance  evinced  anxiety  and  distress.  Such  a  sight  was  not 
new  in  a  lawyer's  office ;  they  resumed  their  employment, 
and  soon  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  a  third  person  was 
in  the  room. 

Louis  felt  himself  ill  at  ease ; — every  moment  his  resolu- 
tion grew  fainter,  and  fainter.  He,  who  had  so  indepen- 
dently declared  that  never  would  he  hang  upon  the  favor  of 
the  great,  was  now,  in  the  very  outset,  waiting  as  an  hum- 
ble suppliant  to  ask  a  favor  of  one  to  whom  he  would 
doubtless  appear  a  stranger.  Every  tick  of  the  clock,  every 
rustling  of  the  parchment  went  to  his  heart,  and  increased 
his  trepidation  ;  he  could  no  longer  sit,  he  arose  and  walked 
to  a  window  which  looked  out  upon  Broadway,  now  glit- 
tering with  splendid  equipages,  and  beginning  to  be  gay 
with  crowds  of  well-dressed  ladies,  pursuing  their  round  of 
shopping,  previous  to  the  hour  of  fashionable  visiting.  In 
vain  did  Louis  strive  to  beguile  his  sad  thoughts  by  looking 
out  upon  the  busy,  bustling  scene.  He  felt  a  feverish  anxiety 
to  be  about  his  own  business,  instead  of  thus  wasting  time, 
every  moment  of  which  might  be  precious,  by  giving  the 


124  IDA    NORMAN. 

jeweller  an  opportunity  to  conceal  his  property,  beyond  the 
reach  of  discovery. 

A  dialogue  between  the  clerks,  now  drew  the  attention  of 
Louis. 

"  When  are  those  copies  wanted,  McDonald  ?" 

"  At  twelve  o'clock  this  morning,  we  must  have  them 
completed.  Mr.  Ashburn  gave  positive  orders  to  that  effect. 
That  is  a  splendid  estate,  Crawford,  which  the  auctioneer 
knocked  off  yesterday  to  Mr.  Vanderkemp.  The  old  man- 
sion house  of  the  Tudors,  with  several  other  houses  ad- 
joining." 

"For  whose  benefit  is  the  property  sold  ?"  said  Crawford. 

"For  the  creditors  of  our  late  minister  to  ,  Living- 
ston Norman,  who  has  been  declared  a  bankrupt ;  and  is 
said,  moreover  to  be  a  defaulter  to  a  large  amount  to  Gov- 
ernment, leaving  his  endorsers  to  take  care  of  themselves." 

A  deadly  paleness  overspread  the  features  of  Louis,  who 
involuntarily  turned  his  face  towards  the  speakers,  uttering 
a  groan  which,  though  half  suppressed,  was  distinctly  heard. 
The  young  men  started,  one  of  them  inquired,  "  Are  you 
not  well,  sir  ?  you  seem  faint." 

"  It  is  but  a  slight  indisposition,"  said  Louis,  articulating 
with  difficulty,  "I  rose  very  early  this  morning,  having 
some  important  business — I  am  anxious  to  see  Mr.  Ashburn, 
do  you  think  he  will  be  in,  soon  ?" 

"I  presume  he  would  have  come  before,  had  he  been 
told  you  were  waiting;  that  lazy  waiter  must  have  ne- 
glected to  speak  to  him — sit  down,  I  will  go  and  call  him," 
and  McDonald  left  the  room. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Ashburn  entered.  "  You  have  bu- 
siness with  me,  I  understand,  young  gentleman,"  said  he, 
in  a  kind  voice,  that  inspired  Louis  with  the  courage  to  say, 
"  I  would  speak  with  you  in  private,  sir." 

Mr.  Ashburn  led  the  way  into  his  private  counsel-room, 
and  asked  Louis  to  sit  down.  Seating  himself  near  a 


IDA   NORMAN.  125 

centre-table,  Louis  looked  up,  and  beheld,  opposite  to  him, 
a  portrait  of  his  father.  Again  was  he  agitated,  and  con- 
fused ;  that  high  intellectual  brow,  those  piercing  eyes, 
that  mouth  expressive  of  energy  and  determination,  were  so 
like  reality,  that  for  the  moment,  he  lost  all  consciousness 
of  his  present  circumstances. 

"You  seem  agitated,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn, 
"  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  I  hope  you  have  not  been  guilty 
of  crime,  that  you  seem  thus  distressed ;  but  innocence 
should  have  no  fear.  If  you  are  guilty,  I  would  not,  if  I 
could,  screen  you  from  the  penalties  of  the  law.  Yet  you 
are  young,  and  may  have  been  led  into  temptation.  Your 
countenance  seems  familiar,  but  I  do  not  recollect  where  I 
have  ever  seen  you." 

Louis  attempted  to  speak,  but  his  tongue  refused  to 
move,  a  sense  of  suffocation  oppressed  him;  gladly  would 
he  have  escaped  into  the  streets,  any  where,  from  his  pain- 
ful situation.  Must  he  appear,  as  his  father's  accuser?  Must 
he  confess  that  his  father  had  abandoned  his  children,  and 
that  this  abandonment  had  thrown  him  into  his  present  dis- 
tress ?  Must  he  give  the  last  blow  to  his  father's  reputation, 
with  one,  who,  it  would  seem,  still  remembered  him  with 
kindness,  since  he  permitted  his  portrait  to  hang  in  an  apart- 
ment apparently  reserved  for  his  private  use. 

"Young  man,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn,  observing  the  embar- 
rassment of  Louis,  "  tell  me  frankly  your  situation,  and  if 
your  case  is  not  desperate,  I  will  try  to  do  something  for 
you.  What  is  your  name,  and  where  do  you  live  ?" 

Louis  looked  full  in  the  face  of  Mr.  Ashburn,  and  in  a 
husky,  but  distinct  voice,  answered,  "My  name,  sir,  is  Louis 
Livingston  Norman,  and  to-day  I  am  living  in  the  streets." 

"Is  this  possible!  can  it  be  so!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ashburn, 
scarcely  less  moved  than  Louis  himself;  "are  you  Living- 
ston Norman's  son  ?  Yes,  I  see  now,  why,  I  thought  I  had 
seen  you.    You  was  once  a  pet  of  mine,  and  I  then  foretold, 
11* 


126  IDA    NORMAN. 

that  you  would,  one  day,  become  a  great  man.  But,  my 
dear  fellow,  what  troubles  you?  Your  poor  father,  I 
know — "  here  Mr.  Ashburn  paused,  and  his  manly  counte- 
nance shewed  the  pain  he  felt,  from  the  thoughts  which  he 
would  not  from  regard  to  the  feelings  of  Louis  express.  Louis 
who  had  proudly  sustained  himself  under  suspicion,  was 
overcome  by  such  unexpected  tenderness,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Long  and  interesting  was  the  conversation  which  Mr. 
Ashburn  held  with  Louis,  after  the  latter  had  recovered  him- 
self sufficiently  to  explain  the  condition  in  which  he  now 
found  himself  placed. 

"  And  what  do  you  wish  to  do,  my  brave  fellow,"  said 
his  friend,  "if  you  could  have  your  choice?" 

"  I  would  do  any  thing,"  said  Louis,  "  that  is  not  dishon- 
orable to  support  myself  and  aid  my  sister,  even  to  selling 
newspapers,  a  trade  which  Tom  Goodwin  (whose  simple 
story  I  have  this  morning  listened  to  with  interest),  fol- 
lowed successfully,  until  it  led  him  to  something  higher." 

"No,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn,  smiling,  "you 
must  not  set  up  an  opposition  line  to  the  poor  newspaper 
boys ;  let  them  have  their  humble  gains,  for  yourself,  a  higher 
destiny  is  doubtless  in  store,  and  my  predictions  may  yet 
be  fulfilled.  What  has  been  the  course  of  your  education, 
Louis?  You  have,  I  suppose,  studied  the  classics  and  the 
higher  branches  of  mathematics." 

"  I  think,"  replied  Louis,  "  I  have  not  neglected  my  ad- 
vantages ;  at  Mr.  Delaplaine's  school  much  attention  is  given 
to  modern  languages,  and  the  belles-lettres ;  and  I  am  suffi- 
ciently advanced  in  the  classics,  and  mathematics,  to  enter 
the  senior  class  in  any  American  college." 

"  Very  well,  my  son,  go  on  with  your  education ;  I  will 
supply  you  with  the  means." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Louis,  "  for  declining  your  kind- 
ness, for  which  I  feel  the  deepest  gratitude,  but  I  cannot 
consent  to  incur  such  an  obligation,  as  I  am  already  in- 


IDA   NORMAN.  127 

debted  to  a  large  amount  to  Mr.  Delaplaine  for  my  educa- 
tion ;  no  remittances  having  been  received  by  him  from  my 
father  during  the  last  year." 

"  There  must  be  some  mistake  in  this,"  said  Mr.  Ash- 
burn,  "I  do  not  know  much  of  that  Mr.  Delaplaine,  but 
some  facts  respecting  him  have  come  to  my  knowledge, 
which  have  given  me  rather  an  unfavorable  opinion  of  his 
principles.  I  have  certainly  received  letters  from  your  fa- 
ther within  a  year,  and  I  am  almost  sure  that  he  men- 
tions having  remitted  to  some  one,  a  bill  of  exchange  for  the 
use  of  his  children.  We  will  look  into  this  at  a  future 
time,  after  some  provision  has  been  made  for  your  present 
necessities — but  what  are  your  wishes  as  to  the  future  ?" 

"  It  was  my  intention  to  seek  for  some  employment,"  said 
Louis,  "  that  would  enable  me,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  pay 
my  debts,  and  support  my  sister  and  myself.  But  first,  I  de- 
signed to  dispose  of  my  watch,  and  some  other  articles,  for 
the  benefit  of  Mr.  Delaplaine,  whom  I  am  anxious  to  pay  as 
soon  as  possible ;  but  in  my  first  business-operation  I  have 
been  unfortunate,  for  my  property  is  now  in  the  hands  of 
a  dishonest  jeweller  in  the  city."  Louis  then  related  to 
Mr.  Ashburn  the  manner  in  which  the  box  of  valuables  had 
been  seized,  and  that  in  looking  to  find  a  lawyer  to  advise 
him  what  course  to  take,  he  had  been  led  to  apply  to  himself. 

"  I  remembered  you,  sir,"  said  he,  "  as  a  former  friend  of 
my  father,  but  much  feared  his  misfortunes,  and  my  own 
circumstances,  might  render  me  an  unwelcome  client." 

"  Ah !  my  son,"  said  the  good  man,  grasping  Louis  by  the 
hand,  "  the  world  is  bad  enough,  I  grant,  but  you  are  too 
young  to  be  thus  distrustful.  Come,  we  have  no  time  to 
lose ;  I  will  go  with  you  and  see  the  man  who  has  dared, 
thus  wickedly,  to  oppress  one  who  seemed  unprotected." 

Mr.  Ashburn  seized  his  hat,  and  the  clerks  who  had  been 
much  surprised  at  his  long  interview  with  the  young 


123  IDA    NORMAN. 

stranger,  looked  with  still  more  surprise,  when  they  saw 
him  leave  the  house  in  his  company. 

As  they  walked  rapidly,  down  Broadway,  Mr.  Ashburn 
obtained  from  Louis  an  account  of  the  whole  transaction. 

"  Here  is  the  shop,"  said  Louis,  "  I  took  the  number  and 
the  name,  'Perseverance  Fox.'" 

*'  Well,  my  young  friend,  in  spite  of  his  ominous  name, 
we  will  make  a  short  business  with  him." 

As  Mr.  Ashburn  and  Louis  entered  the  shop,  a  crowd 
of  customers  were  standing  around ;  ladies  were  looking  at 
rings  and  breastpins,  or  inquiring  the  prices  of  fancy  arti- 
cles, and  two  or  three  gentlemen  were  examining  watches. 

Mr.  Fox  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door,  and  did 
not  observe  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Ashburn  and  Louis.  "  This 
watch,"  said  he,  shewing  the  article  to  a  customer,  "  is  one 
of  great  value,  there  cannot  be  found  its  equal  in  the  United 
States;  it  is  worth  two  hundred  dollars,  but  belongs  to  an 
unfortunate  gentleman  who  is  anxious  to  sell  it,  and  I 
will  let  it  go  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  which  is 
a  great  bargain ; — and  here,  ladies,  is  a  diamond  pin  which 
belongs  to  the  same  unfortunate  person,  who  is  obliged  to  go 
for  his  health  to  the  south  of  Europe,  and  is  very  anxious  to 
dispose  of  these  things,  to  raise  money  for  the  voyage,  lie 
was  once  a  great  nabob  in  the  East  Indies,  but  is  now  re- 
duced ; — the  poor  old  gentleman,  his.  story  was  really  af- 
fecting! I  shall' not  make  one  cent  by  the  bargain,  for  I  am 
doing  it  all  out  of  charity  and  kindness.  This  diamond-pin 
ought  to  fetch  five  hundred  dollars,  it  was  never  bought  for 
a  cent  less  ; — the  old  gentleman  says  the  diamonds  were  dug 
from  the  mines  of  Golconda,  while  he  was  there, — but  to 
hasten  the  sale  for  the  poor  old  gentleman,  so  that  he  can 
have  the  means  of  following  the  doctor's  advice,  I  will  put 
the  pin  at  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars ;  and  here  is  a  dia- 
mond-ring to  match." 

Louis  having  made  signs  to  Mr.  Ashburn  that  those  arti- 


IDA    NORMAN.  129 

cles  were  his,  that  gentleman  stepping  forward,  said  sternly, 
"  how  dare  you,  villain,  attempt,  in  open  day,  the  crime  you 
have  been  guilty  of.  Here  is  the  owner  of  the  watch  and 
the  diamonds ;  not  an  old  man  wishing  to  go  abroad  for  his 
health ;  but  a  youth  whom  you  supposed  to  be  without 
friends ; — possibly  your  wicked  imagination  may  have  de- 
ceived you  into  a  belief  that  he  was  a  thief,  and  would  be 
willing  to  share  his  plunder  with  you,  as  you  proposed,  for 
the  sake  of  your  saving  him  from  justice.  Louis,  is  this  the 
man  who  took  the  property  from  you,  and  can  you  swear  to 
the  articles  ?" 

"He  is  the  man,  sir,  and  I  can  swear  to  the  articles,"  was 
the  firm  and  decided  answer. 

The  customers  looked  on  in  astonishment.  Fox  saw  that 
he  was  caught  in  a  trap  of  his  own  setting.  He  knew  well 
who  Mr.  Ashburn  was,  and  perceived  that  Louis  was  no 
thief  of  a  young  clerk  as  he  had  suspected,  who,  through 
fear  of  being  exposed,  would  consent  to  any  kind  of 
imposition. 

"All  a  joke,  sir,"  said  Fox,  with  ready  cunning,  "a  mere 
joke." 

"  It  may  be  a  very  expensive  joke,  to  you,  Mr.  Fox,  un- 
less you  instantly  settle  with  my  young  friend,  here,  by  re- 
storing his  property,  and  paying  satisfactory  damages; — 
otherwise,  you  shall  be  made  to  feel  the  full  rigor  of  the  law." 

"  I  am  willing  he  should  take  his  property,  since  it  is  his, 
but  I  thought  perhaps," 

"No  matter  what  you  thought,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn  in  a 
voice  that  made  the  culprit  tremble,  "  you  have  seized  upon 
property  which  did  not  belong  to  you,  and  are  liable  in  law 
for  trespass,  or  rather  for  robbery ;  and  I  shall,  at  once,  have 
you  indicted  unless  you  comply  with  my  terms." 

The  ladies  looked  at  Mr.  Fox  very  indignantly;  and  his 
red  hair  seemed  redder,  and  his  red  whiskers  looked  more 
ferocious; — some  said,  "  what  a  shame  to  steal  from  such  a 


130  IDA    NORMAN. 

beautiful  young  man ."'  and  others  declared,  they  thought 
him  a  villain  when  they  entered  his  shop. 

Fox  gathered  together  with  great  trepidation,  the  articles 
which  belonged  to  Louis,  and  putting  them  into  the  casket, 
handed  them  to  the  owner,  in  a  cringing  and  supplicating 
manner. 

"  There  they  are,"  said  he,  "  every  one  of  them — and  I 
have  cleaned  them  for  you,  too." 

"Now,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn,  "what 
shall  this  man  pay  you  for  his  robbery,  and  the  distress  and 
annoyance  he  has  caused  you  ?" 

u  I  do  not  wish,  sir,"  said  Louis,  "  to  take  any  thing  from 
him,  his  own  accusing  conscience  will  be  punishment  suf- 
ficient." 

"  Mr.  Fox,  you  may  well  thank  this  young  gentleman  for 
his  forbearance — you  might  have  been  thrown  into  the 
State's  prison  for  your  offence ;  and  I  fear  we  are  doing 
wrong  to  let  such  an  audacious  attempt  at  villainy,  pass 
unpunished." 

Mr.  Fox's  customers  had  all  vanished,  and  Mr.  Ashburn 
and  Louis  left  him  to  ruminate  on  the  profitless  speculation 
of  the  morning. 

"  Mr.  Ashburn,"  said  Louis,  wilh  some  anxiety,  "  I  have 
now,  through  your  kindness,  recovered  my  property ;  and 
as  I  am  quite  satisfied  with  my  attempt  to  act  without  the 
guidance  of  experience,  I  would  ask  you  to  direct  me  to 
some  honest  dealer,  that  I  can  dispose  of  these  articles  for 
the  purpose  I  at  first  intended." 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  now,  my  young  friend,"  said 
Mr.  Ashburn,  "  come  home  with  me  to  dinner — 1  have 
much  to  say  to  you  ;  I  shall  examine  your  father's  last  let- 
ters to  me,  which  I  am  quite  certain  made  mention  of  a  re- 
mittance sent  for  you  and  your  sister.  It  may  be  that  Mr. 
Delaplaine  has  not  accounted  for  all  the  money  he  has  re- 
ceived, believing  the  rumor  that  your  father  will  not  return. 


IDA    NORMAN.  131 

But  my  dear  Louis,  I  have  never  believed  half  the  scandal 
which  has  been  circulated  by  your  father's  enemies  respect- 
ing him;  he  has  been  improvident  and  imprudent,  but 
who,  in  this  world,  is  faultless  ?  I  hope  to  see  him 
among  us,  yet,  able  to  defend  his  reputation  and  put  his 
enemies  to  shame." 

Louis  blessed  in  his  heart  that  charity  which  induced 
Mr.  Ashburn  to  palliate  his  father's  conduct,  and  speak 
encouragingly ;  but  he  feared  to  indulge  in  hopes  which 
might  be  followed  by  disappointment,  and  resolved  to  per- 
severe in  his  plans  of  beginning  to  earn  his  own  living, 
depending  on  the  bounty  of  no  one,  not  even  of  Mr.  Ash- 
burn  who  seemed  so  kindly  disposed  towards  him. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DISHONESTY  EXPOSED. LOUIS    FINDS    A    HOME. 

AGAIN  did  the  two  clerks  look  up  from  their  writing 
with  surprise,  as  Mr.  Ashburn  passed  through  the  office 
into  his  private  room  accompanied  by  the  young  stranger, 
who  now  walked  with  a  firm  and  manly  step,  and  with  the 
air  of  one  who  sees  light  beaming  upon  his  pathway. 

Mr.  Ashburn  took  from  a  private  drawer,  a  package  of 
letters  in  the  superscription  of  which,  Louis  recognised  the 
well  known,  peculiar  hand  of  his  father.  As  Mr.  Ashburn 
vainly  examined  several  letters,  his  compressed  lips  and 
knit  brow  expressed  the  disappointment  he  felt,  at  not  find- 
ing what  he  was  in  search  of. 

"  I've  found  it,"  he  exclaimed,  "here  it  is,  the  last  letter  I 
ever  received  from  your  father.  Let  us  see  the  date — it  was 
written  just  about  a  year  ago.  Here  is  the  paragraph  about 
the  draft :" 


132  IDA    NORMAN. 

"  'By  this  ship,  I  send  to  Mr.  Delaplaine,  the  gentleman 
who  has  charge  of  my  son's  education,  a  bill  of  exchange 
on  London,  for  one  thousand  pounds,  sterling,  with  direc- 
tions to  hand  half  the  avails  of  the  draft  to  Mrs.  Newton, 
who  has  the  care  of  my  daughter.  I  mention  this  to 
you,  believing  you  will  take  some  interest  in  my  children, 
whom  I  should  wish  to  entrust  to  your  charge  should 
I  never  return  to  the  United  States;  my  affairs  there,  are 
in  a  state  of  great  embarrassment,  my  political  enemies  are 
disposed  to  injure  me  in  every  possible  way,  and  I  con- 
fess that  I  am  disgusted  with  my  native  country.  There  is 
something  fascinating  to  me  in  foreign  manners,  and  I  have 
found  associations  here,  which  bind  me  to  this  land  of 
poetry  and  romance.  You,  Ashburn,  are  one  of  the  very 
few  whom  I  have  loved,  and  in  whom  I  have,  in  some  mea- 
sure, confided ;  could  you  ask  me  to  return,  disgraced,  ca- 
lumniated,— fallen  from  the  elevation  to  which  I  had  been 
raised  in  public  favor.  You  have  often  cautioned  me  against 
political  ambition, — it  was  my  guiding  star,  it  carried  me  to 
the  height  of  popularity,  and  has  suddenly  left  me  in  dark- 
ness. I  resign  myself  to  destiny ;  disappointed  in  youth  in 
my  dearest  wishes,  and  now  left  in  my  more  advanced  years, 
stripped  of  the  honors  with  which  I  sought  to  console  my- 
self for  disappointed  affection.' " 

Louis  forgot  the  draft  in  listening  to  this  avowal  of  his 
father's  sufferings ; — in  seeing  thus  deeper  into  his  heart  than 
he  had  ever  before  done,  a  new  love  for  him  mingled  with 
pity  sprang  up  in  his  soul,  with  an  ardent  desire  to  devote 
himself  to  his  happiness. 

This  train  of  thought  was  interrupted  by  Mr.  Ashburn, 
who  exclaimed,  "  How  unpardonable  has  been  my  neglect ! 
I  should  have  inquired  of  that  Mr.  Delaplaine  about  the 
draft,  and  shewn  an  interest  in  you  and  your  sister ;  but  my 
professional  engagements  have  been  so  engrossing,  as  to  leave 
me  scarcely  master  of  my  own  actions.  Louis,  I  want  another 


IDA    NORMAN.  133 

/ 

clerk ;  since  you  refuse  my  aid  in  helping  you  on  with  your 
collegiate  pursuits,  will  you  come  into  my  office  as  an 
assistant  ?" 

A  glow  of  pleasure  lighted  up  the  countenance  of  Louis, 
who  exclaimed,  "  Oh  sir,  if  I  could  but  be  useful  to  you,  it 
would  be  to  me,  a  most  desirable  situation.  I  have  long 
wished  to  follow  the  profession  of  my  father.  But  I  know, 
that  clerks  in  offices  usually  support  themselves,  at  least 
for  some  time,  and  I  have  no  means  to  do  this." 

"You  will  be  entitled  to  a  salary;  I  shall  keep  you  very 
busy,  and  make  you  earn,  what  1  shall  give  you ;  never 
fear,  that  1  shall  not,  my  noble  fellow.  I  like  your  indepen- 
dence, that  would  not  be  beholden  to  others,  but,  would 
labor  for  what  you  have;  you  will  make  a  great  man  Louis, 
I  am  sure  of  it; — my  prophecy  will  yet  be  fulfilled." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Louis,  with  an  instinctive  shudder, 
"  I  have  a  horror  of  great  men ; — mere  political  men,  I 
mean ;  I  should  be  glad  to  be  morally  or  intellectually 
great,  but,  the  desire  of  popularity,  I  hope  never  to  feel ; 
I  have  seen  its  unhappy  effects  too  much  in  my  own 
family." 

"  I  grant  that  a  thirst  for  popularity,  is  very  uncomfortable, 
(I  have  felt  enough  of  it  myself,  to  know,")  said  Mr.  Ashburn, 
k>  but,  if  a  man  is  conscious  of  possessing  abilities  which 
might  enable  him  to  be  useful  to  his  country,  it  is  right 
that  he  should  desire  office ;  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  think 
there  were  not,  among  us,  many  honest  politicians.  But 
we  are  talking,  when  we  should  be  acting — I  will  summon 
Mr.  Delaplaine  to  my  office,  and  call  on  him  to  account  for 
the  use  he  has  made  of  this  draft  of  one  thousand  pounds." 
Mr.  Ashburn  having  despatched  a  note  to  Mr.  Delaplaine 
requesting  him  to  come  to  his  office  prepared  to  settle  Mr. 
Norman's  account,  that  gentleman  soon  made  his  appear- 
ance, apparently  much  disconcerted  at  this  unexpected 
summons.  He,  however,  presented  his  account  against  Mr. 
12 


134  IDA    NORMAN. 

Norman,  showing  a  balance  of  more  than  a  thousand  dol- 
lars in  his  own  favour. 

Mr.  Ashburn  looking  at  him  with  an  expression,  by  no 
means  flattering,  informed  Mr.  Delaplaine  that  there  was 
evidence  in  respect  to  a  draft  for  one  thousand  pounds,  re- 
mitted by  Mr.  Norman,  the  year  before,  for  which,  no  credit 
appeared  in  his  account.  The  embarrassment  of  the  pre- 
tended scion  of  royalty  was  extreme.  The  principal  of 
Bourbon  Hall,  a  gentleman  of  finished  manners,  and  an  ac- 
complished scholar,  was, however,  quick  to  see  his  position; 
and  with  the  utmost  politeness,  professed  much  regret  that 
he  should  have  forgotten  that  circumstance ;  and  he  was 
really  very  glad  to  find,  that  young  Mr.  Norman  would  be 
so  much  better  off,  than  he  had  feared.  He  would  that 
moment  give  his  check  for  the  balance,  and  settle  the 
business  at  once. 

The  cloud  on  Mr.  Ashburn's  brow,  was  chilling.  Louis 
was  astonished  at  the  affair,  scarcely  knowing  what  to 
think;  though  he  had  never  entertained  a  high  opinion  of 
Mr.  Delaplaine,  nor  felt  bound  to  him  by  any  tie  of  sym- 
pathy or  affection,  he  had  not  for  a  moment  doubted  his 
honesty  in  regard  to  the  common  matters  of  business. 

Mr.  Delaplaine  having  given  his  check  and  received  a 
receipt  for  the  same,  addressing  Mr.  Ashburn  in  the  bland- 
est manner,  said,  "  1  hope  sir,  as  our  business  is  now 
adjusted,  you  are  entirely  satisfied  respecting  the  draft;  I 
remember  now,  that  it  was  received  at  a  time  when  I  was 
deeply  engaged  in  important  duties,  and  I  trust  there  is 
noihiug  remarkable,  or  peculiar,  in  the  fact  of  its  having  been 
overlooked.  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Norman,  you,  who  have 
ived  with  me,  and  know  the  importance  of  my  usual 
avocations  can  well  understand,  how  so  small  a  matter, — 
small  1  mean,  comparatively  speaking,  should  have  escaped 
niv  memory  ?" 

'•Indeed  sir,"  said  Louis,  in  an  extenuating  tone,  "since 
I  find  myself  clear  of  debt,  1  am  too  happy  to  be  disposed 


IDA     NORMAN.  135 

to  think  evil  of  any  one.  For  your  attention  to  me  and 
the  advantages  you  have  afforded  me,  I  owe  you  my  grati- 
tude ;  and  Mrs.  Delaplaine  has  been  kinder  to  me,  than  F, 
probably,  have  deserved.  J  shall  call  and  pay  my  respects 
to  her  and  see  rny  school  companions  as  soon  as  I  get 
settled,  and  can  hold  up  my  head  like  a  man  " 

Shame  and  remorse  were  evidently  awakened  in  the 
mind  of  Delaplaine  by  the  noble  ingenuousness  of  Louis, 
and  the  delicacy  of  his  conduct  in  respect  to  himself ;  he 
was  conscious  that  his  own  coldness  towards  the  young 
man  had  deeply  wounded  his  feelings;  for,  after  having 
conceived  the  plan  of  defrauding  one  whom  he  thought 
unprotected,  (believing  that  Mr.  Norman  would  never  return 
to  call  him  to  account  for  the  draft,)  he  had  viewed  Louis 
with  a  dislike,  he  had  taken  little  pains  to  conceal.  In  fact, 
he  had  wished  to  shake  him  off,  and,  had  seen  him  leave 
his  house,  on  the  Saturday  evening  previous,  in  a  state 
bordering  on  desperation,  without  making  the  least  effort 
to  detain  him. 

And  yet,  this  man  had  gained  the  confidence  of  the 
public,  and  parents  entrusted  their  sons  to  his  care.  He 
first  became  popular  through  the  patronage  of  some  influ- 
ential persons,  who  regarded  his  nobility,  (and  this  might 
not  have  stood  the  test  of  scrutiny)  his  polished  manners, 
and  above  all,  his  Parisian  accent,  as  entitling  him  to  the 
highest  rank  in  his  profession,  of  an  educator  of  young 
gentlemen.  The  ball  once  set  in  motion  continued  to  move, 
and  the  school  of  Mr.  Delaplaine  commanded  the  patron- 
age of  the  rich  and  exclusive,  so  that  he  was  able  to  con- 
fine himself,  wholly,  to  the  sons  of  that  class  ;  and  at  length, 
rendered  it  a  kind  of  Almack's;  admission  into  it  being  con- 
sidered a  patent  of  high  aristocracy.  We  have  before  said, 
that  Mr.  Delaplaine  was  a  man  of  learning,  and  here,  at 
least,  there  was  no  imposition.  His  pupils  did  improve 
greatly  in  the  French,  and  other  modern  languages;  and  they 
became  graceful  in  manners ;  they  learned  to  use  silver 


136  IDA    NORMAN. 

forks,  and  to  eat  an  egg  genteelly,  to  dress  and  behave 
as  gentlemen,  and  to  hold  themselves  above  such  as  had 
not  been  initiated  into  the  refinements  of  polished  society, 
nor  the  mysteries  of  Parisian  manners.  But  the  heart,  the 
moral  principles,  the  religious  sentiment,  all  which  truly 
forms  the  man,  which  should  receive  the  first  and  last 
attention  of  the  educator,  these  were  of  no  account  in  the 
system  of  Mr.  Delaplaine.  Moulded  on  his  plan,  a  pupil 
might  be,  in  a  mere  worldly  sense,  an  accomplished  gen- 
tleman ;  but,  if  he  proved  a  patriot,  a  useful  citizen,  a  phi- 
lanthropist, or  a  Christian,  it  would  be  owing  to  extraneous 
circumstances,  and  in  spite  of  the  unfavorable  influence  of 
the  fashionable  system  of  education. 

Louis  Norman,  having  been  placed  by  his  father  under 
the  special  guardianship  of  Mrs.  Newton,  she  had  faithfully 
performed  towards  him  a  mother's  duty,  by  carefully  direct- 
ing the  development  of  his  moral  powers  and  emotions.  His 
Sundays  having  been  usually  passed  at  Mrs.  Newton's,  an 
opportunity  had  been  given  her  for  salutary  influence  in 
respect  to  his  religious  habits  and  feelings.  Thus  had 
Louis  Norman's  inner  man  been  probed  and  quickened,  and 
made  to  assume  that  command  over  the  outer  and  material, 
which  was  intended  by  the  Creator  when  he  formed  man 
with  a  double  nature. 

But,  to  return  to  the  finished  and  polite  Mr.  Delaplaine ; 
he  saw  well,  that,  however,  Louis  Norman  in  his  kindness 
of  heart,  and  with  the  ingenuousness  of  youth,  might  be 
willing  to  palliate  his  guilt,  by  Mr.  Ashburn  he  was  under- 
stood ;  and  he  trembled  lest  his  towering  edifice  of  popu- 
larity might  be  overthrown,  by  an  exposure  of  his  conduct 
to  Louis. 

Concealing  his  uneasiness  as  well  as  he  could,  Mr.  Dela- 
plaine talked  with  Louis  familiarly,  and  was  even  facetious, 
shewing  in  his  smiles  at  his  own  witticisms,  his  perfect 
teeth,  (they  were  his  by  purchase,)  and  appearing  quite 
hilarious  in  the  excitement  of  his  feelings. 


IDA     NORMAN.  137 

Thoroughly  disgusted  with  this  hypocrisy,  Mr.  Ashburn 
became  very  uneasy,  making  sundry  movements  in  his 
chair,  coughing,  and  walking  to  the  window ;  at  length  he 
took  out  his  watch  with  an  air  which  the  very  accomplished 
gentleman  dared  not  misunderstand,  who  looking  at  his  own 
watch,  was  surprised  to  find  it  so  late;  he  had  an  important 
engagement,  was  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  go,  hoped  Mr.  Nor- 
man would  still  feel  himself  at  home  at  Bourbon  Hall, 
where  he  would  ever  be  received  as  a  welcome  guest. 

Mr.  Delaplaine  having  bowed  himself  out  of  the  apart- 
ment, Mr.  Ashbuni  exclaimed,  "  And  such  a  scoundrel  is 
allowed  to  educate  youth ;  but  he  shall  be  unmasked,  I 
owe  it  to  society  to  make  his  character  known — a  wolf  set 
to  guard  lambs !  Ah,  Louis,  you  treated  him  too  well ;  but 
4  the  merciful  man  is  blessed.'  Well,  my  son,  we  have  done 
a  good  morning's  work;  scathed  two  villains,  and  made  an 
honest  man  richer  than  he  supposed  himself  to  be.  Instead 
of  the  destitute  and  forlorn  fellow  you  considered  yourself 
this  morning,  here  you  are,  with  watch  and  diamonds,  and 
a  check  for  a  thousand  dollars.  What  do  you  intend 
doing  with  all  this  money?  I  fear  you  will  consider  your- 
self-too  rich  to  accept  of  a  humble  clerkship  in  my 
office, — you  might  spend  a  fashionable  season  at  Saratoga, 
Niagara,  &c.,  with  such  a  sum," — and  Mr.  Ashburn  waited 
with  some  degree  of  anxiety  for  an  answer. 

So  rapidly  had  events  succeeded  each  other  within  the 
last  few  hours,  that  Louis  could  scarcely  realize  his  altered 
condition,  or  believe  in  his  own  identity  ;  but  Mr.  Ashburn's 
question  recalled  him  to  himself,  and  to  the  thought  of  Ida; 
and  he  became  impatient  to  hasten  to  her  to  communicate 
the  pleasing  intelligence  that  their  father  had  been  far  less 
culpable  than  they  had  supposed,  in  respect  to  neglecting 
to  make  provision  for  them ;  he  began  to  feel  that  they 
might  again  be  re-united,  "at  least,"  thought  he,  "if  my 
most  strenuous  efforts  can  be  of  any  avail  in  rebuilding  the 
12* 


138  •    IDA    NORMAN. 

broken  fortunes  of  our  family,  they  shall  not  be  wanting; 
for,  to  this  object  will  I  devote,  and  consecrate  myself,  with 
such  energies  and  abilities  as  t  possess."  These  thoughts 
passed  rapidly  through  the  mind  of  Louis,  but  starting  from 
his  reverie,  he  exclaimed,  "Excuse  me,  sir,  you  asked  a 
question  which  awakened  a  crowd  of  thoughts, — pardon 
my  seeming  inattention,  and  perhaps  apparent  irresolution 
as  to  the  appropriation  of  this  sum,  by  your  kind  agency 
put  into  my  possession.  But  it  is  not  mine ;  it  was  intend- 
ed for  my  sister's  use.  It  will  afford  her  and  myself  the 
greatest  satisfaction  to  transfer  it  to  the  excellent  Mrs.  New- 
ton, who  has,  I  fear,  been  led  by  her  generous  disposition, 
to  go  beyond  her  means,  in  what  she  has  done  for  my  sis- 
ter, on  whom  she  has  long  bestowed  care  and  support 
without  expecting  compensation ;  and  to  me,  too,  she  has 
been  a  mother;  for  to  her,  I  owe  my  true  and  best  educa- 
tion, that  of  the  principles  and  the  heart."  . 

"Mrs.  Newton,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn,  "is  one  of  those 
few  noble  beings  who  reconcile  us  to  human  nature,  who 
are  truly,  'The  salt  of  the  earth.'  Your  father  did  well  in 
leaving  his  daughter  in  a  school  where  she  might  be  taught 
something  besides  dress,  fashion,  and  French.  But  now, 
my  young  friend,  we  have  planned  a  good  disposition  of 
the  check,  we  will  talk  of  your  immediate  affairs.  Since 
you  do  not  conclude  to  spend  that  money  in  a  pleasure  ex- 
cursion, I  suppose  you  intend  to  be  my  clerk,  and  go  to 
work.  I  shall  allow  you  a  moderate  salary  for  your  sup- 
port, the  first  year  or  two,  after  which  we  will  see  what  can 
be  done  for  you.  We  have  no  children,"  here  Mr.  Ash- 
burn  wiped  away  a  tear,  "  you  must  live  with  us,  and  I 
doubt  not  you  will  be  a  favorite." 

Louis  was  affected  deeply  by  such  kindness,  but  with 
more  sincerity  than  politeness,  he  replied,  "  I  had  rather 
not  accept  any  favors,  sir,  but  such  as  I  shall  merit." 

"Yes,  I  see  you  are  very  independent — but  you  are 
right,  my  good  fellow ;  make  yourself  necessary  to  people, 


IDA    NORMAN.  139 

and  they  become  dependent  on  you ;  this  is  the  true  source 
of  power.  But  come  with  me  to  Mrs.  Ashburn's  parlor," 
and  leading  the  way  through  a  private  entrance,  Mr.  Ash- 
burn  ushered  Louis  into  an  elegant  boudoir,  where  was 
seated  a  lady  of  middle  age,  whose  sweet,  though  some- 
what sad  expression  of  countenance  bespoke  a  kind  and 
sympathetic  heart.  The  voice  of  Mrs.  Ashburn  fell  on  the 
soul  of  Louis  tike  plaintive  music,  it  was  so  gentle  and 
touching.  As  Mr.  Ashburn  briefly  related  to  her  the  trials 
of  Louis,  and  the  events  of  the  morning,  she  listened  with 
deep  attention  and  varying  emotions.  The  crafty  dishon- 
esty of  Fox,  the  benevolence  and  simplicity  of  Mrs.  Good- 
win, and  the  injustice  of  Delaplaine,  all  called  forth  an- 
swering sympathies,  as  she  imagined  herself  in  the  different 
situations  of  Louis.  The  story  being  ended,  she  extended 
her  hand  to  Louis;  and  with  much  tenderness,  said,  "You 
want  parents,  and  we  want  a  son.  With  us  you  will  be 
happy,  for  we  shall  love  you,  and  you  will  love  us  in 
return." 

Thoughts  of  his  departed  mother  rushed  upon  the  mind 
of  Louis;  he  thought  of  the  night,  when  after  some  little 
dispute  between  Ida  and  himself,  she  called  them  to  her  and 
spoke  of  their  coming  separation  ;  how  his  father  came  and 
embraced  them ;  and  the  effect  which  this  scene  had  upon 
the  feelings  of  himself  and  his  sister.  Though  sensible  of 
his  mother's  failings,  he  knew  she  loved  her  children  with 
a  mother's  love,  and  that  their  happiness  had  been  the  dar- 
ling object  of  her  life.  Mrs.  Ashburn's  words  seemed  to 
him  dictated  by  a  mother's  kindness,  and  they  awakened 
within  his  heart  an  answering  emotion  of  filial  affection. 

"  If,"  said  Louis,  taking  Mrs.  Ashburn's  proffered  hand, 
u  I  can  but  prove  myself  worthy  of  such  a  reception,  I 
shall  be  but  too  happy." 

Dinner  was  announced,  and  Louis,  seated  at  the  sump- 
tuous table  of  Mr.  Ashburn,  where  rare  dishes  were  served 
up  in  massive  silver  and  the  richest  porcelain,  thought  of 


140  IDA    NORMAN. 

the  breakfast  of  that  very  morning  eaten  from  a  barrel  in 
Mrs.  Goodwin's  little  shop.  His  Father  in  heaven  had  con- 
ducted him  to  friends,  and  made  his  cup  to  run  over  with 
blessings,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  gratitude  and  thankful- 
ness. Mrs.  Ashburn  perceiving  that  in  the  fulness  of  his  feel- 
ings, Louis  had  little  disposition  to  partake  of  the  delicacies 
before  him,  with,  ready  tact,  forebore  to  press  him  to  eat. 

After  dinner,  Louis  was  conducted  by  a  servant  to  his 
apartment,  where  he  found  his  trunks  and  some  other  arti- 
cles belonging  to  him,  which  Mr.  Ashburu  had  directed  to 
be  brought  from  Mr.  Delaplaine's  establishment;  and  the 
latter  gentleman  had  scrupulously  sent  all,  even  to  the  small- 
est trifle,  for  he  wished  to  be  thought  Jionest. 

"  And  can  I,"  thought  Louis,  "  be  useful  to  Mr.  Ash- 
burn,  so  that  I  may  feel  that  I  do  not  eat  the  bread  of  de- 
pendence? for  without  this,  I  could  not  be  contented,  even 
here.  And  then,  again,  bow  shall  I  be  able  to  do  what  I 
wish  for  Ida,  that  she  may  have  a  home  ?  And  oh !  that 
I  could  hope  to  pay  my  father's  debts,  so  that  he  might 
be  permitted  to  come  to  his  native  land,  and  spend  the  eve- 
ning of  life  with  his  children !  I  cannot,  I  will  not  believe 
that  my  father  has  become  the  bad  man  his  enemies  repre- 
sent; he  may  have  erred,  he  doubtless  has, — but,  may  his 
son  never  be  so  base,  as  to  abandon  him." 

In  the  solitude  of  his  chamber,  Louis  knelt,  and  re- 
turned thanks  for  deliverance  from  the  wicked,  and  for  other 
blessings  granted  him ;  he  prayed  for  his  father,  that  he 
might  be  led  to  forsake  all  evil  ways,  and  become  an  hum- 
ble penitent,  caring  not  for  the  applause  of  men,  but  the 
approbation  of  God.  This  act  of  devotion,  and  filial  piety 
performed,  Louis  felt  his  heart  lightened  of  a  burden,  and 
that  with  renewed  courage  he  was  ready  to  begin  his  duties. 


PART    II. 


CHAPTER    I. 

IDA    NORMAN    A    TEACHER   AT    SCIENCE    HALL. 

YEARS  passed  on,  and  Ida  Norman  had  become  a  teacher 
in  the  school  of  her  friend  and  benefactress,  Mrs.  Newton. 
Her  proud  and  haughty  spirit,  subdued  by  trials,  was  soft- 
ened into  submission  ;  and  the  seal  of  piety  had  become  im- 
pressed upon  her  character.  Who  that  saw  her  now,  bear- 
ing patiently  with  the  obstinacy  and  petulence  of  others, 
calm,  meek  and  uncomplaining  amidst  the  toils  and  priva- 
tions of  her  situation,  would  have  recognised  the  self- 
willed,  imperious  and  violent  Ida  Norman,  as  she  first  ap- 
peared at  Science  Hall  ? 

But  think  not  her  spirit  was  crushed,  her  independence 
of  thought  destroyed.  No,  Ida  Norman  in  her  carriage  and 
deportment  was  lofty  and  commanding,  it  was  in  her  nature 
to  be  so ;  but  the  meek  graces  of  her  subdued  spirit  so 
tempered  her  sterner  qualities,  that  while  she  commanded 
respect,  she  inspired  love  and  confidence.  The  youngest 
pupil  in  the  school  would  ask  Ida  to  share  in  her  little 
sports ;  and  many  a  doll  received  a  finishing  touch  to  her 
toilette  from  Ida's  tasteful  hand.  In  trouble,  she  was  a  sym- 
pathising friend,  and  in  perplexity,  a  judicious  adviser;  but 
when  her  duty  obliged  her  to  command,  she  was  decided 
and  inflexible. 

*'  Do  tell  me,  Miss  Ida,"  said  little  Rosa  Lansing,  as  the 


142  IDA    NORMAN. 

child  sat  on  her  lap,  and  looked  up  in  her  calm,  serene  eye, 
"what  makes  you  so  good  ?  Every  one  loves  you, and  Mrs. 
Newton  tells  us  we  must  try  to  imitate  you ;  it  seems  to  be 
so  natural  for  you  to  do  right.  I  do  not  believe  you  ever 
knew  how  to  be  bad." 

"Ah !  my  dear  child,"  said  Ida,  while  the  tear  trembled 
in  her  eye,  "  you  little  know  how  very  bad  I  once  was,  and 
how  much  I  have  tried  to  overcome  my  bad  temper,  and  to 
do  my  duty ;  and  even  now,  dear  little  Rose^  I  am  far  from 
being  such  an  example  as  I  ought  to  be." 

Little  Rose  nestled  closer  to  Ida,  and  looked  surprised  at 
the  falling  tears.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear,"  said  she,  "  that  you 
was  ever  a  bad  girl,  for  it  gives  me  courage  to  hope  that  I 
may  grow  to  be  a  good  young  lady  too.  But  was  you  pun- 
ished a  great  deal,  when  you  was  little,  and  what  did  they  do 
to  you  ;  did  they  shut  you  up,  or  make  you  go  to  bed  and 
lie  all  day  and  live  on  bread  and  water,  or  learn  a  great 
many  extra  lessons,  or  hymns,  or  chapters  from  the  bible  ?" 

11 1  received  little  correction  for  my  faults,  either  at  home 
or  at  school,  but  my  Father  in  Heaven  punished  me." 

Rosa  looked  surprised,  "  What  did  He  do  to  you,  Miss 
Ida?" 

"He  humbled  my  pride,  Rosa;  he  made  me  feel  that  in 
this  world,  I  had  no  home  and  no  parents,  and  that  I  must 
look  to  him  alone  for  care  and  protection." 

"And  did  you  love  God  the  better  because  he  punished 
you,  my  dear  Miss  Ida  ?  I  love  best  those  who  are  kind 
to  me." 

"  But,  my  child,  did  you  never  think  that  kindness  is 
often  shewn,  in  making  you  suffer  ?" 

"  How  can  that  be  ?" 

"You  remember,  Rosa,  when  you  was  so  ill  last  sum- 
mer, that  the  doctor  gave  you  bitter  medicine  which  made 
you  well ;  was  he  not  kinder  in  doing  this,  than  if  he  had 
given  you  sugar  plumbs,  which  would  have  been  pleasant 


IDA    NORM AN.  143 

to  the  taste,  but  would  have  increased  your  disease  ?  So  our 
Father  in  Heaven  sends  bitter  trials  to  those  he  loves,  that 
he  may  cure  them  of  mental  diseases." 

"  But  could  not  God  make  us  good,  without  the  bitter 
medicines,  if  he  wished  ?" 

"God  leaves  us  to  our  own  choice  as  to  our  conduct;  if 
he  acted  for  us,  or  made  us  act,  we  should  not  be  as  now, 
free  agents;  we  should  be  like  machines, — but  we  have 
souls,  and  our  actions  must  be  governed  by  our  own  wishes, 
or  we  should  deserve  no  rewards,  we  should  merit  no  pun- 
ishment, there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  good  or  evil.  We 
do  not  think  the  fragrant  flower,  the  luscious  fruit,  or  the 
beautiful  landscape,  deserving  our  love  and  esteem  on  ac- 
count of  their  perfection,  which  is  merely  physical ; — but 
moral  goodness  commands  our  regard,  because  we  know  it 
proceeds  from  choice  or  principle.  Should  I  care  for  the 
love  of  my  little  Rosa,  if  I  did  not  think  it  came  from  her 
own  heart ;  that  she  loves  me  voluntarily,  and  not  because 
she  is  acted  upon  like  a  machine  and  made  to  be  affectionate?" 

"  Rosa,  Rosa  Lansing,  come  here,"  cried  a  little  girl  from 
an  adjoining  room,  "Abigail  Pry  says  she  wants  to  tell  you 
a  secret  that  she  has  just  heard  from  Dolly  Crump." 

"Shall  I  go  Miss  Ida?"  said  little  Rosa,  "I  believe  you 
do  not  think  those  girls  are  good  companions  for  me  ;  I  have 
heard  that  their  sisters  were  very  troublesome  iu  school,  and 
that  they  are  just  like  them." 

"  They  are  not  always  good  children — you  had  better  go, 
as  they  ask  to  see  you  ;  but  I  should  not  wish  you  to  be  made 
a  confidant  of  their  secrets  ;  and  never  promise  not  to  reveal 
what  they  tell  you,  for  it  might  be  something  which  it  would 
not  be  right  for  you  to  conceal.  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  I 
suffered  much  from  the  teasing,  ill-natured  dispositions  of 
the  sisters  of  these  children,  but  I  think  they  were  sorry 
afterwards,  that  they  made  me  unhappy  ; — but  go  Rosa,  Miss 
Landon  and  myself  have  an  engagement  this  evening.  Re- 


144  IDA    NORMAN. 

member  that  you  cannot  be  good,  without  you  try  to  be  so 
and  that  we  make  ourselves  what  we  are." 

"Good  bye,  dear  Miss  Ida,"  said  Rosa,  "I  had  rather 
hear  you  talk,  than  to  play  with  any  of  the  little  girls ;  I  am 
always  best  when  I  am  with  you." 

"Good  bye,  my  sweet  little  friend,  may  you  never  need 
severe  trials  to  make  you  what  you  should  be." 

•  Ida  looked  after  the  little  girl  as  she  playfully  ran  along 
the  passage,  and  a  sad  feeling  arose  that  her  youthful  buoy- 
ancy must  be  so  soon  checked  by  the  stern  realities  of  life. 
She  did  not  like  for  her  the  companionship  of  the  two  girls 
who  had  succeeded  their  sisters,  Sally  and  Maria  as  pupils  in 
the  school,  and  who  like  them  were  addicted  to  tattling  and 
mischief. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Rosa  came  running,  till  she  was  out  of 
breath,  exclaiming,  "Oh  Miss  Ida,  Abigail  Pry  says  that 
Dolly  Crump  has  just  received  a  letter  from  her  sister  Ma- 
ria; and  she  has  written  to  her,  that  your  brother,  Mr.  Louis 
Norman,  is  engaged  to  the  rich  Miss  Selby — that  this  is  the 
talk  of  the  whole  city ;  and  she  thinks  Miss  Laura  Landon 
will  feel  very  unhappy,  when  she  knows  about  it." 

"  Hush,  Rosa,  dear,  do  not  repeat  such  nonsense ;  I  am 
astonished  that  Miss  Crump  should  be  writing  in  this  way 
to  her  sister,  a  little  school  girl." 

"I  am  sure,  Miss  Ida,  we  all  think  Miss  Laura  Landon 
and  your  brother  were  made  for  each  other ;  and  I  should 
not  think  he  would  chose  Miss  Julia  Selby,  just  because  she 
is  rich." 

"You  little  girls  should  not  be  thinking  about  such  things, 
Rosa.  My  brother  has  been  long  attached  to  Miss  Laudon 
and  Miss  Selby,  as  friends,  and  for  my  sake.  Do  not,  mv 
child,  listen  to  those  who  would  fill  your  little  head  with 
idle  stories  about  that,  which  they,  nor  you,  can  know 
nothing." 

Ida  then  went  to  seek  Laura  Landon,  who,  like  herself, 


IDA   NORMAN.  145 

was  still  an  inmate  of  Mrs.  Newton's  family,  and  a  teacher 
in  the  school.  She  knocked  gently  at  Laura's  door ;  no  one 
spake,  she  attempted  to  open  it  but  found  it  locked.  In  a 
moment,  however,  Laura  opened  the  door,  she  had  evidently 
been  weeping,  though  she  attempted  to  conceal  this  from 
Ida's  observation  by  averting  her  face  as  if  busied  with 
some  arrangements  about  the  room.  "  Laura,  dear  Laura," 
said  Ida,  "  what  has  happened  ?  you  cannot  deceive  me,  you 
have  been  weeping;  are  we  not  friends,  and  should  I  not 
share  your  sorrows,  if  you  have  any  ?  Has  any  thing  hap- 
pened to  Willie  ?  It  is  but  a  few  days  sinc'e  we  heard  that 
he  and  Frank  Selby  were  well,  and  hastening  their  prepara- 
tions to  return  home." 

"You  saw  my  brother's  letter  from  Italy,  Ida.  I  have 
had  no  later  intelligence." 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  putting  a  letter  in  your  pocket 
as  I  entered ; — pardon  me,  my  dear  Laura,  you  know  I 
never  conceal  any  thing  from  you-;  and  should  we  not  still 
confide  in  one  another,  as  we  have  ever  done?" 

Laura  embraced  Ida  with  affection, — "do  not  speak  thus," 
said  she,  "there  may,  sometimes,  be  feelings  in  our  hearts 
which  we  would  hide  even  from  ourselves ;  and  such  only 
would  I  keep  from  your  knowledge,  my  best  and  dearest 
friend.  But  Ida  why  are  you  not  dressing  for  Julia's  birth- 
night  party  ?  Mrs.  Newton  always  likes  to  go  early,  and 
you  have  so  far  to  go." 

"You  have  not  yet  commenced  your  own  toilette,  Laura." 
"  Will  you  not  excuse  me  to-night,  dear  Ida  ?  I  have  some 
things  to  do  at  home,  and  if  you  go  with  Mrs.  Newton  we 
shall  be  well  represented  there.     I  am  sure  no  one  will  ob- 
serve my  absence." 

"That  is  the  most  unkind  speech,  dear  Laura,  I  ever 
heard  you  make.     What  can  have  given  you  such  sad  and 
distrustful  feelings  ?   You  know  that  Julia  would  be  much 
hurt,  should  you  not  go." 
13 


146  IDA    NORMAN. 

"  No,  Ida,  I  do  not  know  that ; — Julia  Selby,  the  reigning 
belle  of  New  York,  cannot  think  of  us,  as  we  think  of  her; 
it  is  impossible  she  should  not  be  affected  by  the  homage 
she  receives.  She  is  beautiful,  accomplished,  amiable,  and 
rich, — no  shade  of  sorrow  has  ever  yet  touched  her  heart; 
May  she  never  need  trials  to  refine  or  elevate  her  character ! 
For  this  world,  Julia  is  perfect,  but  she  has  never  yet  felt 
that  this  world  is  not  her  home.  If  my  prayer  for  her  might 
be  granted,  she  would  ever  be  preserved  from  sorrow,  and 
at  last  translated  to  heaven,  without  being  obliged  to  pass 
through  the  fiery  furnace  of  affliction.  Julia  was  ever  kind 
to  the  poor  obscure  Laura  Landon,  and  Heaven  forbid  she 
should  not  rejoice  in  her  felicity !  But,  Ida,  I  would  that  I 
might  be  excused  from  going  out  to-night.  I  fear,  however, 
it  would  grieve  Mrs.  Newton  should  I  decline  going ;  and 
you,  dear  Ida,  wish  me  -to  go ;  so  I  will  make  the  effort, 
though,  indeed,  my  head  aches  sadly." 


CHAPTER    II. 

CHANGE     IN     THE     CHARACTER     OF     JULIA     SELBY. STATE 

OF      AFFAIRS      BETWEEN      LOUIS      NORMAN      AND      LAURA 
LANDON. 

JULIA  SELBY  had  made  a  brilliant  entree  into  society, 
and  was  then,  "  the  bright,  particular  star"  among  the  throngs 
who  crowded  the  gay  saloons  of  New  York.  She  had 
never,  herself,  known  that  she  was  fond  of  admiration  until 
the  danger  came.  Naturally  generous  and  noble  in  her 
disposition,  she  had  in  her  school  days  ever  been  ready  to 
take  the  part  of  the  injured,  and  had  held  herself  above  the 
petty  jealousies  which  would  often  break  out  among  her 


IDA    NORMAN.  147 

school-companions.  Her  correct  deportment,  her  generous 
friendship  for  those  whom  it  was  in  her  power  to  serve, 
and  her  command  over  her  own  passions,  gained  for  Julia 
Selby  the  praise  of  all  whose  praise  she  valued. 

But  though  by  human  eye,  the  fault  was  unseen,  though 
by  herself  it  was  unsuspected;  in  the  sight  of  Him  who 
searcheth  the  heart,  she  was  guilty  of  a  sin  that  dimmed  the 
lustre  of  her  virtues,  and  took  from  them  their  chief  merit; — 
an  inordinate  love  of  praise,  wordly  ambition,  and  the  desire 
for  admiration,  were  the  ruling  passions  of  her  soul.  At 
school,  she  had  been  greatly  influenced  by  the  power  which 
Mrs.  Newton  wielded  over  her  mind.  To  render  herself 
such  as  she  could  love  and  esteem,  to  come  up  to  her  stand- 
ard of  perfection,  was  then  her  aim.  She  imbibed  her  tastes 
and  modes  of  thinking  to  a  certain  degree,  and  often  said, 
"when  I  leave  school,  I  will  consult  Mrs.  Newton  about  my 
course  in  life ;  I  shall  desire  to  be  under  her  guidance." 

Mrs.  Newton  loved  her  gifted  and  obedient  pupil  with  a 
mother's  tenderness,  but  she  never  felt  that  she  was  pos- 
sessed of  the  master-key  of  her  mind.  She  sought  to  lead 
her  to  religion  as  the  source  of  all  true  happiness ;  but  here 
her  efforts  were  baffled.  Julia  agreed  to  all  matters  of 
failh,  gave  serious  attention  to  all  the  external  duties  of 
religion ;  but  she  shrunk  from  that  meek  and  child-like  re- 
ception of  divine  truth,  which  works  silently  and  deeply  in 
the  heart,  and  purifies  the  affections.  Under  the  plea  that 
she  was  not  as  good  as  she  should  be,  she  forbore  to  claim 
the  privilege  of  enrolling  herself  among  the  professing 
children  of  God;  always  saying,  that  she  only  deferred  it, 
until  ua  more  convenient  season.1" 

It  was  not  without  fears  and  misgivings,  that  Mrs.  Newton 
saw  her  lovely  pupil  go  from  her  care,  to  encounter  the 
flatteries  and  temptations  incident  to  her  position  in  society, 
as  the  only  daughter  of  the  rich  Mr.  Selby,  known  as  one  of 
the  millionaires  of  the  city. 


148  IDA    NORMAN. 

The  death  of  her  mother,  which  occurred  about  two  years 
before  Julia  left  school,  had  been  felt  by  her  as  a  deep 
affliction;  but  such  events,  when  not  followed  by  any 
change  of  condition  or  loss  of  fortune,  do  not  always  make 
a  lasting  impression  on  the  young  mind.  Julia  had  loved 
her  mother  tenderly,  and  shed  bitter  tears  over  her  grave ; 
but  grief  in  the  heart  of  the  young,  is  soon  effaced  by  ne\y 
scenes,  and  new  events. 

Julia  Selby  her  own  mistress,  with  uncontrolled  power 
over  her  father's  affections,  and  purse,  and  urged  on  by  an 
unbounded  ambition,  stood  in  a  dangerous  position.  She 
still,  often  asked  Mrs.  Newton's  advice;  she  still,  loved  her 
early  friends,  Laura  Landon  and  Ida  Norman;  and  often 
stole  away  from  the  fascinations  of  society,  to  spend  a  quiet 
day  at  Science  Hall.  But  her  visits  became  less  and  less 
frequent,  and  the  perfect  confidence  which  had  existed  be- 
tween herself  and  her  friends  at  the  Hall  seemed  gradually 
on  the  wane. 

Laura  Landon  with  all  her  warm  love  for  Julia,  had  early 
seen  that  she  was  never  pleased  when  Louis  Norman  be- 
stowed on  her  any  marks  of  attention.  Laura,  who  was  too 
humble  in  her  pretensions  to  believe,  for  a  moment,  that 
Louis  would  not  prefer  Julia  to  herself,  had  sought  to 
repress  a  growing  partiality  for  him,  and  prudently  avoided, 
as  much  as  possible,  occasions  of  meeting  him,  or  being  in 
his  society. 

Louis  in  reference  to  this  conduct  on  her  part,  reproached 
her  for  her  coldness,  avowing,  in  plain  terms,  that  she  had  long 
been  an  object  of  deep,  and  peculiar  interest  to  him.  "  I  only 
wait,"  he  said,  "Laura,  to  have  the  unhappy  fate  of  my  fa- 
ther ascertained,  and  to  see  his  affairs  honorably  settled,  in 
order  to  place  myself  at  your  disposal,  for  life." 

Relying  fully  on  the  honor  of  Louis  Norman,  Laura  after 
such  a  declaration,  had  allowed  greater  indulgence  to  her 
feelings,  and  friendship  had  gradually  ripened  into  emotions 


IDA    NORMAN.  149 

of  a  more  tender  kind.  Louis  and  she  read  together  the 
same  books,  sang  together  the  same  songs,  admired  the 
same  prospects,  and  their  minds  seemed  to  produce,  by  their 
union,  sweet  and  thrilling  harmony. 

Louis  had  no  other  prospect  before  him,  but  that  of  mak- 
ing his  way  in  life  by  his  own  talents  and  industry.  Laura 
also  was  poor ;  there  was,  therefore,  no  inequality  in  their 
conditions. 

Ida  never  seemed  happier,  than  when  she  saw  her  brother 
and  her  friend  happy  in  the  society  of  each  other.  Thus  had 
stood  affairs  between  Louis  Norman  and  Laura  Landon, 
when  Ida  discovered  the  latter  weeping  in  secret. 

A  letter  had,  in  due  course  of  mail,  been  received  by 
Laura,  the  superscription  of  which  suggested  the  well- 
known  hand  of  Louis.  They  had  never  corresponded,  but 
Laura,  from  his  professions,  was  justified  in  expecting  a 
more  explicit  declaration.  It  was,  therefore,  with  a  light 
heart,  and  a  glowing  cheek,  that  she  opened  this  letter,  which 
she  deemed  the  harbinger  of  future  happiness.  The  first 
sentence  almost  petrified  her  with  astonishment; — indignant, 
she  cast  the  letter  from  her,  and  for  a  few  minutes  she 
might  have  been  taken  for  a  marble  statue,  so  cold,  pale  and 
motionless,  she  sat ;  but  summoning  resolution,  she  at  length 
finished  reading  the  epistle,  which  ran  thus : — 

"  I  am  sorry,  Miss  Landon,  to  be  obliged  to  address  you 
these  lines,  but  having  observed  in  you,  various  indications 
of  partiality  for  me,  I  think  it  right  to  inform  you  that  it 
will  be  in  vain  for  you  to  hope  to  gain  my  affections.  Had 
you  wealth,  I  acknowledge  I  might  think  a  future  connexion 
desirable,  but  my  own  want  of  fortune,  renders  it  the  more 
necessary  that  I  should  select  for  my  future  companion  in 
life,  one  who  can  remedy  this  deficiency.  I  hope  this  ho- 
norable avowal  on  my  part,  will  not  interrupt  the  friendship 
which  has  existed  between  you  and  my  sister,  as  I  should 
be  very  unwilling  to  believe  that  your  professed  attachment 
13* 


150  IDA   NORMAN. 

to  her,  had  been  founded  on  the  hope  of  obtaining  the  hand 
of  her  brother.  With  esteem,  I  am  respectfully  yours,  &c., 

Louis  NORMAN." 

Again  did  Laura  cast  the  note  from  her,  scarcely  know- 
ing what  she  did,  and  regarding  it  with  that  kind  of  horror 
which  one  would  feel  to  see  a  venomous  reptile  crawling 
near  his  person,  from  which  he  has  no  hope  of  escape. 
Tears  at  length  came  to  her  relief,  and  she  wept  long  and 
bitterly  over  the  wreck  of  cherished  hopes ;  and  what  was 
even  more  agonizing  than  slighted  love,  the  loss  of  esteem 
for  one  whose  character  she  had  long  regarded  with  the 
highest  degree  of  admiration. 

Laura  wished  not  that  Ida  should  see  her  tears ;  she  would 
not  pain  the  heart  of  her  friend  by  exposing  her  brother's 
meanness ;  and  when  obliged  to  admit  her  into  her  apart- 
ment, she  sought  to  conceal  her  grief  and  agitation.  At 
first,  she  thought  it  would  not  be  possible  for  her  to  go  to 
the  birth-night  party.  Louis  was  to  be  there,  he  had  pro- 
mised to  be  in  waiting  for  them  in  the  vestibule.  How 
could  she  meet  him,  with  her  present  feelings ;  or  how  could 
she  summon  fortitude  to  go  at  all  ?  But  this  was  not  Lau- 
ra's first  trial ;  she  had  been  taught  in  the  school  of  afflic- 
tion, and  the  question,  "What  ought  I  to  do?"  was  that 
which  influenced  her  to  action,  rather  than  "  What  can  I  do  ?" 
or  "What  would  I  prefer  to  do?"  So  she  determined  to 
dress  for  the  party,  and  not  to  disappoint  the  kind  Mrs. 
Newton,  or  render  Ida  unhappy  by  her  refusal  to  go. 

Though  Mrs.  Newton  had  little  taste  for  gay  society,  she 
was  too  deeply  interested  in  her  former,  beloved  pupil,  Julia 
Selby,  not  to  wish  to  be  near,  and  observe  her,  in  her  debut 
in  society.  Of  all  her  pupils,  Julia  had  been  to  Mrs.  Newton 
the  most  of  an  enigma.  So  perfect  had  she  seemed  at  times, 
so  noble  in  thought,  so  amiable  in  feeling,  so  generous  and 
lofty  in  disposition  and  principle,  that  one  might  almost  have 
deemed,  she  was  exempt  from  any  blemish  of  human  infirmity. 


IDA   NORMAN.  151 

But  the  question  would  oft  arise  in  the  anxious  mind  of 
Mrs.  Newton,  "Is  her  heart  deeply  imbued  with  thefee  good 
qualities,  or  do  they  merely  adorn  the  surface  ?"  She  knew 
that  Julia  had  read  many  works  of  imagination,  and  some- 
times feared  that  she  studiously  modelled  her  character  after 
the  heroines  of  romance.  Year  after  year,  had  Mrs.  New- 
ton found  in  Julia  Selby  the  same  attentive  listener  to  her 
counsels  and  instruction,  the  same  lovely  and  interesting 
girl,  attracting  the  attention  of  strangers  by  her  intelligence 
and  ease  of  manners,  and  carefully  attending  to  her  required 
duties,  a  pattern  and  example  to  her  companions.  But  the 
motive,  the  end  and  aim  of  all,  was  not  fully  understood 
by  Mrs.  Newton ;  and  much  she  feared  the  effect  of  the 
world,  and  its  allurements  upon  the  heart  of  Julia. 

The  affection  of  Miss  Selby  for  her  two  school  friends,  Ida 
Norman  and  Laura  Landon,  led  her  often  to  solicit  their  so- 
ciety, and  Mrs.  Newton  was  not  unwilling  to  permit  them 
to  see  enough  of  fashionable  life  to  form  their  opinions  as 
to  its  effects  on  human  happiness.  She  was  satisfied  with 
regard  to  them,  that  they  would  never  become  intoxicated 
with  pleasure,  so  as  to  forget  the  claims  of  duty,  or  put  to 
shame  their  Christian  profession.  With  a  mother's  pride, 
she  desired  too,  that  they  might  have  an  opportunity  of  be- 
ing seen  to  advantage,  conscious  that  their  personal  attrac- 
tions and  their  accomplishments  would  not  pass  unnoticed. 


152  IDA    NORMAN. 

CHAPTER    III. 
JULIA  SELBT'S  PARTY. 

MRS.  NEWTON'S  carriage  drove  up  to  the  brilliantly 
lighted,  town  residence  of  Mr.  Selby  in  Mannering-Place,  at 
nine  o'clock,  and  the  ladies  were  met  in  the  entrance  by 
Louis  Norman.  He  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Newton,  sa- 
luted Ida  affectionately,  and  coldly  bowed  to  Laura  from 
whose  cheeks  the  wonted  roseate  tint  had  faded,  and  left 
them  colorless  as  Parian  marble. 

"What  ails  you,  dear  Laura?"  whispered  Ida,  as  they 
went  into  the  dressing-room  to  lay  aside  their  wrappings ; 
"you  have  not  spoken  during  the  whole  drive,  and  you 
have  lost  all  your  color.  Why  did  you  and  Louis  meet  so 
coldly  ?" 

"Nothing,  Ida,  nothing  ails  me;  if  you  love  me,  do  not 
notice  my  appearance,  Mrs.  Newton  will  hear  you  and  will 
become  alarmed." 

Mrs.  Newton  did  not  hear,  but  she  saw  that  Laura  was 
pale,  and  attributing  her  indisposition  to  the  motion  of  the 
carriage,  led  her  to  an  open  window.  Laura  soon  affirmed 
that  she  felt  quite  well,  and  was  ready  to  go  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

Mrs.  Newton  entered  the  drawing-room  with  Miss  Lan- 
don,  while  Mr.  Norman  and  his  sister  followed.  Ida  had 
insisted  that  Laura  should  enter  with  her  brother;  Laura 
said  coldly,  she  preferred  to  go  with  Mrs.  Newton,  and 
Louis  very  formally  remarked,  that  the  ladies  could  arrange 
the  matter  as  they  thought  proper.  Mrs.-  Newton  was 
surprised  at  the  nonchalance  of  Louis,  and  still  more  at 
what  she  deemed  Laura's  caprice,  so  unlike  any  thing  in  her 
conduct  she  had  ever  before  witnessed;  but  there  was  no 


IDA    NORMAN.  153 

time  for  remark  or  inquiry,  and  they  passed  with  the  crowd 
into  the  reception-room. 

Julia- Selby,  amidst  all  the  splendors  of  the  most  elegant 
suite  of  rooms  which  New  York  could  furnish,  and  standing 
amidst  an  admiring  circle  of  its  elite,  saw  h£r  friends  advance, 
with  a  sweet  and  becoming  smile. — To  honor  and  love  a 
woman  like  Mrs.  Newton,  was  to  reflect  honor  upon  herself; 
and  to  have  two  such  lovely  friends  as  Ida  and  Laura,  was 
a  proof  that  she  did  not  fear  being  eclipsed  by  their  beauty, 
and  was  above  the  meanness  of  envy.  Moreover,  the  dig- 
nity and  grace  of  Mrs.  Newton,  the  loveliness  of  Laura,  the 
blonde,  and  Ida,  the  brunette,  were  additions  to  the  tout  en- 
semble of  her  soiree.  There  was  the  greater  eclat,  as  hers 
were  the  only  parties  that  Mrs.  Newton,  with  her  two  ad- 
mired protegees,  ever  attended. 

But  a  belle  at  her  own  birth-night  celebration  could  not 
be  expected  to  bestow  more  than  a  passing  attention  upon 
any  female  friends ; — and  Miss  Selby,  lustrous  with  rich 
jewels,  and  radiant  with  smiles  and  animation,  taking  the 
proffered  arm  of  Mr.  Norman,  moved  with  queenly  dignity  to 
meet  a  party  who  had  just  entered  the  saloon,  and  were  ad- 
vancing towards  her.- 

"How  beautifully  Julia  looks  to  night,"  said  Ida  in  a  low 
tone  to  Laura. 

"Oh  very  sweetly,  she  is  always  lovely,"  was  the  answer, 
"and  no  wonder  that  she  is  loved;"  the  sigh  that  accom- 
panied this  remark,  was  so  low  and  smothered  that  Ida  heard 
not  its  faintest  breath. 

But  hark!  "what  fairy-like  music,"  steals  upon  the  ear? 
Julia  Selby  is  at  the  harp,  and  by  her  side  stands  Louis 
Norman: — a  shade  of  sadness,  at  variance  with  the  gay 
scene,  passes  over  his  fine  features  but  soon  disappears  ;  and, 
as  he  turns  over  the  music,  he  bends  and  whispers  to  Julia, 
words  which  bring  a  brighter  carnation  to  her  cheeks. 

"Who   is   that  elegant  young   man   standing   by   Miss 


154  IDA    NORMAN. 

Selby  ?"  said  a  gentleman  near  Laura  Landon,  to  a  lady  who 
was  leaning  on  his  arm. 

"Is  it  possible, Mr.  Binns,  you  do  not  know  Mr.  Norman, 
the  young  lawyer,  who  has  recently  made  himself  so  dis- 
tinguished at  the  bar,  by  his  eloquence  ?  Though  he  has 
but  just  completed  his  studies,  he  is  becoming  quite  cele- 
brated, or  notorious,  as  I  heard  a  boarding-school  girl  lately 
say  of  an  illustrious  man.  I  dare  say  you  recollect  the 
clamor  which,  a  few  years  since,  was  raised  against  the 
father  of  this  gentleman,  who  was  at  one  time  a  leading 
politician ;  but  he  was  sent  on  a  foreign  mission,  and  sud- 
denly disappeared,  nobody  knew  how,  or  where." 

"You  must  not  go  very  far  back,  Miss  Ninns,  if  you  ex- 
pect me  to  remember;  I  rank  myself  among  the  juveniles." 

"Oh  yes,  you  have  done  that  these  thirty  years,  Mr. 
Binns." 

"To  your  certain  knowledge  and  observation,  Miss 
Ninns ;  is  it  not  so  ?" 

"Suppose  we  change  the  subject,  Mr.  Binns;  you  know 
we  should  never  make  disagreeable  allusions,  especially  in 
society." 

"'Those  that  live  in  glass  houses,'  you  know,  Miss 
Ninns." 

"  I  declare,  Mr.  Binns,  you  are  getting  worse,  and  worse," 
and  Miss  Ninns,  in  affected  anger,  patted  his  arm  with  her 
feather-tipped  fan;  "but  hark,  Miss  Selby  is  going  to  sing 
again,  and  young  Norman  is  all  attention." 

"  He  seems  the  favored  admirer,"  said  Mr.  Binns,  "  they 
are  certainly  a  superb  looking  couple." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  Miss  Ninns,  "  that  Mr.  Norman  was 
engaged  to  a  young  lady  residing  with  Mrs.  Newton,  at  Sci- 
ence Hall,  I  believe  a  kind  of  teacher  there,  but  I  dare  say 
it  is  mere  rumor,  he  certainly  appears  very  devoted  to  Miss 
Selby." 

Laura  had  turned  towards  a  window,  and  was  stooping  to 


IDA   NORMAN.  155 

inhale  the  fragrance  of  a  vase  of  camelias  and  moss-rose 
buds,  when  this  remark  was  made, — to  her  relief,  Mr.  Binns 
and  Miss  Ninns  soon  walked  towards  the  harp,  and  her 
agitation  passed  unnoticed. 

Mrs.  Newton  was  conversing  with  a  few  friends  whom 
she  had  not  met  for  some  time,  and  Ida,  who  had  been  urged 
by  Laura,  to  leave  her  at  the  conservatory  window,  had 
joined  a  party  in  an  adjoining  saloon.  Thus  was  Laura  left 
to  bear,  as  well  as  she  might,  with  no  relief  nor  support,  the 
painfulness  of  her  situation.  While  watching  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  escape  from  the  room  without  observation,  she  saw 
Julia  Selby  and  Louis  Norman  advancing  towards  her. 

"  My  dear  Laura,"  said  the  former,  "  why  are  you  alone 
among  so  many  beaux  ?  but  you  must  come  and  take  my 
place  at  the  harp,  for  Mr.  Norman  -insists  that  I  must  dance 
with  him  the  next  quadrille,  and  you  know  he  dances  so 
seldom,  I  cannot  refuse.  Mr.  Harcourt  begs  the  honor  of 
conducting  you  to  the  harp.  I  am  happy,  Mr.  Harcourt,  to 
introduce  you  to  my  very  particular  friend,  Miss  Landon." 

Laura  made  a  strong  effort  to  control  her  feelings,  and 
without  a  glance  at  Louis,  took  the  proffered  arm  of  Mr. 
Harcourt.  Instead  of  singing,  which  she  felt  to  be  impossi- 
ble, she  played  a  popular  march ;  and  then,  little  heeding 
the  compliments  of  Mr.  Harcourt,  desired  that  gentleman  to 
conduct  her  to  Mrs.  Newton. 

The  striking  beauty  of  Ida  Norman  commanded  much  at- 
tention, and  she  had  little  opportunity  during  the  evening  of 
observing  Laura,  or  the  sadness  which,  notwithstanding  all 
her  efforts,  had  appeared  in  her  countenance.  Sick  at  heart, 
and  exhausted  with  her  efforts  to  disguise  her  feelings,  Laura 
requested  Mrs.  Newton  to  call  their  carriage  that  she  might 
go  to  her  mother's  residence  to  pass  the  night,  as  it  was 
nearer  than  the  Hall,  and  she  still  felt  indisposed. 

Mrs.  Newton  insisted  on  going  with  her ;  Ida,  also,  pro- 
posed leaving  the  party  and  accompanying  her,  but  Laura 


156  IDA    NOKMAN. 

begged  they  would  remain,  that  her  going  before  supper 
might  be  the  less  observed.  Mrs.  Newton  now  suspecting 
that  something  unpleasant  had  taken  place  between  her  and 
Louis,  was  glad  to  give  them  an  opportunity  for  an  ex- 
planation. 

They  proceeded  for  a  time  in  painful  silence,  at  length, 
Louis  remarked,  "You  may  be  pleased  to  know,  Miss 
Landon,  that  I  have,  to-day,  received  a  letter  from  your 
brother,  in  which  he  tells  me,  that  having  accomplished  in 
Italy,  the  mercantile  negotiations  for  the  firm  of  Selby  &, 
Co.,  and  visited  most  of  the  interesting  works  of  art  in  the 
principal  cities,  he  intends  returning,  soon." 

"Oh  that  he  were  here!"  said  Laura,  "  he  has  been  gone 
so  long." 

"  Length  of  time  to  me,"  said  Louis,  "  seems  not  to  de- 
pend on  days,  or  years,  but  events, — sudden  changes  make 
us  seem  to  have  lived  years,  in  moments ;  but  of  all  changes, 
a  change  in  the  feelings  of  those  we  love,  is  that  which 
most  embitters  life !" 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Laura,  scarcely  knowing 
what  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Norman,  you  left  the  com- 
pany to  come  with  me,  it  was  not  necessary  you  should 
have  done  so ; — but  there  is  my  mother's  cottage,  with  a 
glimmering  night-lamp  in  the  little  parlor." 

The  carriage  stopped,  Louis  assisted  the  trembling  Laura 
to  alight,  and  as  they  walked  across  the  little  court-yard,  he 
said,  "  I  well  remember  the  first  time  I  came  here,  I  was 
then,  friendless  and  unhappy.  Since  then  my  fortunes  have 
changed,  but  I  am,  at  this  moment,  more  wretched  than  I 
was  then,  for  I  was  cheered  by  hope,  and  confided  in  the 
affections  of  those  I  loved." 

"  Can  there  be  love  without  fortune  ?"  said  Laura,  ironi- 
cally, and  with  emphasis. 

"  Such  a  sentiment  from  you,  Laura,  I  had  not  expected ; 
but  henceforth  I  will  trust  to  no  one ;  even  your  brother 


IDA    NORMAN. 


157 


who  has  been  my  bosom  friend  for  so  many  years,  may 
become  my  bitterest  enemy." 

"  My  brother's  principles,  Mr.  Norman,  will  secure  you 
from  his  enmity,  though  he  will  doubtless  feel  sensibly,  the 
insult  you  have  this  day  offered  his  sister." 

Louis,  thunder-struck,  found  himself  standing  alone  on 
the  steps  of  Mrs.  Landon's  house.  Laura  had  rung  the 
bell,  Serena  had  opened  the  door,  and  the  cold  "good- 
night" of  the  former  sounded  in  his  ears,  as  the  door 
closed  and  the  bolts  were  drawn. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    MYSTERY    THICKENS. A   YOUNG    GENTLEMAN'S 

OPINION    OF    A    COQUETTE. 

MRS.  NEWTON  and  Ida  Norman  called  early  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  at  Mrs.  Landon's  to  inquire  after  Laura ; — the 
agitation  of  the  previous  day,  with  her  unnatural  energy 
and  forced  composure,  had  thrown  her  into  a  fever;  a 
physician  who  had  been  called  in  had  prescribed  rest,  and 
ordered  that  the  patient  should  see  no  one  but  her  attend- 
ants, pronouncing  that  there  was  great  danger  of  a  brain- 
fever. 

Mrs.  Landon  could  only  say,  that  soon  after  Laura  arrived 
at  home  the  night  before,  from  Miss  Selby's  party,  she  was 
seized  with  chills  and  spasmodic  affections,  which  were 
followed  by  fever  and  a  tendency  to  delirium.  Ida  begged 
Mrs.  Landon  to  allow  her  to  remain  and  assist  Serena  in  the 
kitchen,  that  Mrs.  Landon  might  the  better  devote  her 
whole  attention  to  the  care  of  Laura.  "I  can  also  some- 
14 


158  IDA   NORMAN 

times  watch  her  when  she  is  asleep,"  said  Ida,  "and  be 
ready,  as  soon  as  the  Doctor  will  permit,  to  stay  with  her 
entirely." 

Mrs.  Newton,  with  a  heavy  heart,  left  Mrs.  Landon's, 
fearing  greatly  the  result  of  so  violent  an  attack,  but  her 
duties  called  her  home,  and  she  could  do  no  good  by 
staying.  As  she  seated  herself  in  her  carriage,  she  thought 
of  Louis  Norman,  and  the  singular  manner  in  which  he  and 
Laura  had  met,  after  so  many  years  of  friendship,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  closer  tie. 

"Drive  to  the  office  of  Ashburn  &.  Norman,"  said  Mrs. 
Newton. 

On  arriving  there,  she  was  informed  that  Mr.  Norman 
was  ill,  and  could  see  no  one.  Mrs.  Newton  sent  in  her 
name,  and  was  immediately  admitted  into  an  appartment 
fitted  up  with  exquisite  taste,  with  books,  pictures,  statuary, 
and  the  portrait  of  the  elder  Mr.  Norman  still  occupying 
the  same  place  as  when  Louis  first  entered  this  room. 

"And  is  this  your  sanctum,  Louis?"  said  Mrs.  Newton. 

"Mr.  Ashburn,"  replied  Louis,  "has  resigned  to  me  this 
pleasant  apartment,  with  the  entire  charge  of  the  business 
affairs  of  the  office." 

"A  great  proof  of  confidence  in  one  so  young,  for  you 
are  yet  young  Louis,  to  occupy  so  high  a  position.  Mr. 
Ashburn's  reputation  is  unsurpassed  by  any  in  the  pro- 
fession— But  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  are  indisposed  this 
morning.  I  have  just  left  our  dear  Laura,  quite  ill, — the 
physician  says  with  a  brain-fever." 

"  A  brain-fever,  Mrs.  Newton,  is  it  possible !" 

"  Louis,  since  your  father  committed  you  to  my  care,  I 
have  watched  over  you  with  a  mother's  tenderness,  I  am 
now  about  to  use  a  mother's  freedom,— bear  with  me  while 
I  ask  you  some  questions,  and  answer  me  candidly.  Why 
did  you  meet  Laura  so  coldly  last  night  at  Mr.  Selby's,  has 
she  given  you  any  cause  of  offence  ?" 


IDA    NORMAN.  159 

Louis  walked  the  room  for  several  minutes,  much  agitated, 
and  without  speaking ;  then  taking  from  his  pocket  a  letter, 
he  handed  it  to  Mrs.  Newton.  "  I  acknowledge,  dear 
madam,"  said  he,  "your  claim  upon  my  confidence;  and  as 
the  friend  and  protectress  of  Laura  Landon,  you  ought,  also 
to  be  made  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  this  letter  which 
I  received  yesterday,  and  which  has  rendered  me  wretched 
beyond  any  power  of  description.  Indeed,  I  have  been 
ready  a  thousand  times  to  believe  it  a  forgery,  and  but  for 
Laura's  coldness  when  we  first  met  last  night,  and  her 
singular  behaviour  afterwards,  with  her  strange  charges  and 
insinuations,  I  would  have  thrown  the  letter  into  the  fire, 
and  tried  to  forget  it.1" 

Mrs.  Newton  took  the  letter,  and  read  as  follows : 
"  To  Lours  NORMAN,  ESQ. 

Sir: — You  have,  I  perceive,  flattered  yourself  with  the 
thought  that  I  am  interested  in  you,  but  you  are  mistaken. 
Had  you  a  fortune,  I  would  be  willing  to  marry  you;  but 
you  permit  your  sister  to  be  a  teacher,  which  shews  you  to 
be  mean-spirited.  If  I  have  ever  encouraged  your  ad- 
dresses, it  was  with  certain  views  and  expectations  of  your 
father's  return  to  the  country, and  clearing  up  his  character; 
but  there  seems  no  prospect  of  this,  and  I  do  not  wish 
you  to  think  of  me  more,  nor  ever  to  speak  to  me  on  the 
subject  of  this  letter, — my  resolution  is  unalterable.  If  we- 
meet  at  Miss  Selby's  party,  it  must  be  as  mere  acquaintances ; 
I  wish  the  public  to  be  undeceived  in  respect  to  our  mutual 
relations. 

With  unalterable  resolution,  LAURA  LA.XDON." 

"Is  it  possible  Louis,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  almost  in 
anger,  "that  you  could  have  believed,  for  one  moment, 
this  production,  coarse  and  low  as  it  is,  to  have  emanated 
from  one  so  delicate,  refined,  and  noble  hearted  as  Laura 
Landon?  It  is  a  base  forgery,  and  you  should  have 
known  it  for  such."  "  Blame  me  as  you  will,  my  dearest 


160  IDA   NORMAN. 

madam,  the  more,  the  better,"  said  Louis,  grasping  her 
hand,  "for  oh  if  I  could  but  forget  this  troubled  dream  of 
yesterday,  and  last  night,  I  might  again  be  happy ;  at  least" 
added  he  with  a  sigh,  "as  happy  as  I  can  ever  hope,  or 
desire  to  be,  while  the  fate  of  my  unhappy  father  remains  a 
mystery.  But  Mrs.  Newton,  this  is  surely  Laura's  writing ; 
you  know  she  has  a  peculiar  hand,  difficult  to  imitate,  and 
besides,  who  could  wish  to  injure  one  so  lovely,  or  to  inflict 
a  wound  like  this  upon  my  feelings !" 

"It  is  a  very  close  imitation  of  her  hand,  and  it  might 
well  have  deceived  you,  only  you  ought,  almost,  to  have 
doubted  the  evidence  of  your  senses,  rather  than  to  have 
condemned  one  whose  whole  life  and  character  have  been 
free  from  all  reproach.  The  signature  was  doubtless  traced 
over  her  own  writing,  which  might  easily  have  been  done,  as 
the  paper  is  so  thin.  Give  me  the  letter,  and  J  will  endeavor 
to  find  out  the  author  or  authors.  I  strongly  suspect  two 
former  pupils,  who  have  been  the  occasion  of  much  trouble 
to  me,  and  annoyance  to  the  different  members  of  my  family. 
One  of  them  readily  imitated  almost  any  writing,  and 
formerly  shewed  a  great  propensity  to  do  mischief  in  this 
way." 

"But  Laura's  conduct  towards  me  last  night,  how  can 
that  be  accounted  for  ?" 

"Is  it  not  possible,  that  she  too  may  have  been  imposed 
on  in  a  similar  manner ;  and  that  your  treatment  of  her  was 
confirmation  of  some  change  of  feeling  in  respect  to  her  ? 
You  was  very  marked  in  your  attentions  to  Miss  Selby  last 
evening;  and  I  doubt  not,  by  this  time,  the  intelligence  is 
extensively  circulated,  that  you  are  a  candidate  for  the  favor 
of  the  rich  heiress.  Are  there  no  attractions  to  you,  Louis, 
in  the  splendid  fortune  of  Julia,  united  as  it  is  with  rich 
personal  and  mental  endowments  ?" 

"Spare  me,  my  dear  madam,  spare  me,"  said  Louis  ;  "is 
it  possible  that  you  do  not  know  me  better  than  to  suppose 


IDA    NORMAN.  161 

my  heart  could  be  bartered  away  for  gold  ?  I  admire  the  wit 
and  elegance  of  Miss  Selby,  and  have  formerly  thought  more 
highly  of  her  moral  qualities  than  I  do  at  present,  for  it  is 
but  too  evident,  that  like  Alexander,  she  is  never  satisfied 
with  conquest.  Piqued  by  the  contents  of  this  hateful  letter, 
and  most  of  all  by  the  allusion  to  my  father,  I  stooped  for 
once  to  act  the  hypocrite;  and  bowed  to  the  bright  star  of 
the  evening." 

"But  Louis,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "was  it  right  for  you  to 
deceive  Julia  with  respect  to  your  feelings,  and  thus  en- 
danger her  future  happiness  ?" 

"You  need  have  no  fears  Mrs.  Newton,"  replied  Louis, 
"for  Julia  Selby 's  heart;  had  you  not  been  blinded  by  your 
partiality  for  your  pupil,  (excuse  my  freedom)  you  would, 
before  this,  have  seen  that  she  is  too  great  an  admirer  of 
herself,  too  fond  of  the  homage  of  the  many,  to  be  in  danger 
from  that  passion  which  leads  the  thoughts  from  self  to  the 
beloved  object.  But  I  trust  you  will  now  absolve  me  for 
what  may  have  seemed  wrong  in  my  behaviour  last  night, 
both  as  respects  Laura  and  Miss  Selby;  your  supposition 
that  Laura  may  have  also  been  imposed  upon  with  a  forged 
letter,  would  solve  the  mystery  in  respect  to  her  conduct; 
I  fear  she  has  indeed  been  unhappy. — How  could  I  have 
believed,  for  a  moment,  such  sentiments  were  ever  expressed 
by  her?  But  can  I  not  see  Laura?" 

."No,  Louis,  not  at  present;  I  have  not  been  permitted 
myself,  to  see  her  this  morning ;  but  Ida  remains  to  assist 
and  comfort  her  mother." 

"Dear,  kind  sister,"  exclaimed  Louis,  "how  much  do  I 
owe  her!" 

"  I  must  now  go,"  said  Mrs.  Newton  rising,  "  but  com- 
pose yourself,  or  you  too  will  have  a  brain-fever.  Did  you 
get  any  sleep  last  night  ?" 

"T  was  in  no  state  of  mind  to  sleep." 

"  I  advise  you  now  to  take  some  rest,  you  may  depend  on 
14* 


162  IDA   NORMAN. 

having  every  thing  explained.  After  dinner,  you  can  call  at 
Mrs.  Landon's ;  by  that  time,  Laura  will,  I  doubt  not,  have 
become  more  composed,  and  I  hope,  may  be  well  enough  to 
receive  and  make  all  necessary  explanation." 

"  Words  are  too  feeble  to  express  my  thanks  to  you,  my 
ever  dear  friend,  my  more  than  mother,"  said  Louis,  "  you 
have  removed  from  my  heart,  by  your  suggestions  and  as- 
surances, a  burthen  which  was  insupportable." 

"I  need  no  thanks  Louis,  I  only  wish  to  see  you  all 
happy,  and  I  may  add,  doing  right.  But  take  care  of  your- 
self, and  meet  me  at  Mrs.  Landon's  this  evening,  at  sun-set." 

Mrs.  Newton  pursued  her  pleasant  ride  home,  with  the 
consciousness  of  having  prevented  evil,  and  of  being  made 
an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  Providence  of  promoting  the 
happiness  of  others. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    BELLE     AT     HER     MORNING    RECEPTION. THE    DISAP- 
POINTMENT.  SECRET      MUSINGS. DETERIORATION     OF 

CHARACTER,    OR    THE    SAD    EFFECTS    OF    VANITY. 

THE  morning  after  Miss  Selby's  splendid  party,  her  draw- 
ing-room, at  twelve  o'clock,  began  to  fill  with  gentlemen, 
who  according  to  etiquette,  called  to  learn  the  state  of  her 
health  after  the  excitement  of  the  party.  She  was  elegantly 
attired,  in  a  morning  costume  of  studied  and  becoming 
negligence,  and  her  face  was  radiant  with  smiles. 

Her  lively  wit,  and  pleasant  conversation  charmed  many 
an  admirer,  who  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  Miss  Selby 
would  be  very  well,  even  without  a  fortune ;  but  with  one, 


IDA    NORMAN. 

was  quite  irresistible.  As  each  new  visitor  was  announced, 
and  many  had  taken  leave,  Julia  began  to  appear  anxious, 
and  to  look  more^  and  more  earnestly  towards  the  door ; — 
and  when  the  calling  hour  was  passed,  and  among  the 
crowd  Louis  Norman  had  not  yet  appeared,  her  spirits 
sank.  She  scarcely  attempted  to  disguise  her  weariness 
and  ennui  from  the  few  visitors  who  still  lingered ;  and 
when  the  last  one  had  gone,  she  gave  way  to  her  feelings 
of  mortification  and  wounded  pride, — throwing  herself  upon 
a  sofa,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  mentally 
exclaimed,  "  why  should  he,  whom  most  I  wished  to  see, 
have  absented  himself  at  this  time?  Louis  Norman,  last 
night,  for  the  first  time,  gave  me  his  attention — after  so  long 
endeavoring  to  interest  him,  success  seemed  to  have  crowned 
my  efforts,  his  reserve  and  coldness  vanished,  he  left  Laura 
Landon  to  be  my  side ;  almost  for  the  first  time,  he  seemed 
delighted  with  my  singing,  and  to  admire  the  beautiful  style 
of  my  dress.  For  his  attention,  I  sacrificed  that  of  others; 
he  must  have  seen  it,  and  yet  he  fails  to  come  at  this  time 
when  he  knows  I  should  expect  him!  what  will  be  thought 
of  his  absence  ? 

"  But  perhaps,  he  wishes  to  see  me  alone.  He  certainly 
would  not  have  left  the  party  with  Laura  Landon,  if  Mrs. 
Newton  had  not  requested  it.  But  he  might  have  returned, 
yet  he  did  not,  and  he  has  not  chosen  to  come  this  morning. 
What  avails  to  me  the  profusion  of  gifts  showered  upon  me 
on  my  birth-day,  if  I  am  to  be  humiliated,  mortified  and 
disappointed  ? 

"  Louis  Norman  is,  I  know,  proud ;  perhaps,  fearing  he 
may  be  considered  mercenary  in  seeking  my  regard,  he  is 
sometimes  led  to  avoid  me; — possibly,  I  have  not  given  him 
sufficient  encouragement.  He  would  never  be  influenced  by 
the  motives  which  actuate  many ;  and  it  is  this  belief  that 
leads  me  to  wish  to  see  him  among  my  admirers.  Without 
fortune,  or  any  of  its  advantages,  would  I  fear  competition 


164  IDA    NORMAN. 

with  Laura  Landon  ?"  and  Julia,  mentally,  compared  their 
persons,  talents  and  accomplishments,  with  a  satisfied  com- 
placency. 

"If  Louis  Norman,  cares  for  Laura  Landon,1'  continued 
Julia,  in  her  soliloquy,  "why  did  he  so  pointedly  neglect 
her  last  night  ?  if  he  does  not,  why  should  I  have  looked 
in  vain,  for  him  this  morning?" 

Julia  did  not  now,  as  in  past  times,  ask  herself  what  Mrs. 
Newton  would  think  of  her  feelings.  She  had  determined 
to  gain  the  attentions  of  Louis  Norman,  not  from  any  par- 
ticular regard  for  him,  but  from  a  desire  of  power  over  the 
hearts  of  others,  and  for  the  gratification  of  vanity ;  and  the 
less  Louis  had  seemed  disposed  to  yield  himself  to  her 
sway,  the  more  deeply  she  had  become  interested  in  the 
seige  she  had  laid  upon  his  heart. 

William  Landon  had  been  the  hero  of  Julia's  early 
dreams ;  she  had,  when  a  school  girl,  thought  she  loved  him ; 
and  was,  even  now,  awaiting  his  return  from  abroad  with 
fond  expectations,  that  he  would,  if  duly  encouraged,  become 
her  acknowledged  admirer,  and  consider  himself  honored, 
even  by  being  rejected  by  Miss  Selby. 

Thus  had  vanity  and  ambition  made  strange  havoc  in  the 
heart  of  one,  who  as  a  child,  and  even  on  the  verge  of  wo- 
manhood, had  seemed  almost  a  perfect  pattern  of  justice  and 
honor. 

She,  who  had  not  cared  for  the  pleasures  which  wealth 
could  purchase,  and  who  had  been  generous  and  kind  to  the 
children  of  sorrow,  suddenly  became  a  coveter  of  hearts,  a 
miser  in  respect  to  admiration,  to  gain  which,  she  was  not 
only  prodigal  of  time  and  money,  but  sacrificed  her  best  and 
noblest  aspirations.  She  sacrificed  too,  her  own  self-esteem, 
and  when  with  Ida  and  Laura,  at  Science  Hall,  or  in  Mrs. 
Newton's  society,  she  felt  that  she  was  changed,  and  sought 
to  hide  from  her  friends,  the  dark  spot  upon  her  heart. 

Julia  Selby  deceived  herself  in  thinking  that  she  really 


IDA    NORMAN.  165 

loved  Louis  Norman ;  the  difficulty  of  the  conquest  only 
had  made  her  eager  to  accomplish  it.  Though  she  still 
loved  Laura  Landon,  as  far  as  an  egotist  can  love  another, 
and  would  still,  as  in  former  years,  have  defended  her  against 
any  one  who  should  speak  ill  of  her,  she  could  not  yield  to 
her,  on  a  point  where  her  own  pride  and  ambition  were  con- 
cerned. But  Julia  Selby,  though  she  had  in  a  degree,  lost 
the  noble  ingenuousness,  and  honest  simplicity  of  child- 
hood, did  not  fully  understand  the  deceitfulness  of  her  own 
heart,  its  envy  towards  one  whom  she  called  her  friend,  and 
its  grasping  desires,  which  could  not  be  satisfied  while  one 
object  was  beyond  her  reach. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHY    MRS.   LANDON    PREFERRED    HER    HUMBLE    DWELLING 

TO  A   BETTER    ONE. WHY    MRS.   NEWTON   DID    NOT    LIVE 

AN      EASIER     LIFE. THE      MYSTERY     OF      THE      LETTERS 

SOLVED. TWO    PUPILS    DISMISSED. 

MRS.  LANDON'S  humble  dwelling  of  former  years,  endeared 
to  her  by  many  associations  was  still  her  home ;  though  her 
son,  now  a  partner  in  the  great  mercantile  house  of  Selby 
&  Co.,  had  often  urged  her  removal  to  a  habitation  better 
fitted  to  the  improved  circumstances  of  the  family.  But  her 
habits  of  living  in  a  plain  and  simple  manner,  were  so  fixed, 
Mrs.  Landon  said,  that  she  preferred  to  remain  in  her  pre- 
sent situation,  at  least  till  William's  return  from  abroad. 

The  faithful  Serena  still  lived  with  her :  but  though  a  ser- 
vant, able  to  do  the  work  of  the  small  household,  was  now 
added  to  it,  Serena  would  scarcely  permit  any  thing  to  be 
done  without  her  assistance,  or  supervision. 


166  IDA    NORMAN. 


' 


Mrs.  Landon  had  permitted  Laura  to  remain  with  Mrs. 
Newton  beyond  the  time  specified  in  their  arrangement,  both 
for  the  improvement  of  her  own  mind,  and  because  she  con- 
sidered it  incumbent  on  her  daughter,  to  aid  in  duties  which 
the  impaired  health  and  advancing  years  of  her  friend  and 
benefactress,  rendered  more  arduous. 

From  year  to  year,  Mrs.  Newton  had  promised  herself  and 
the  friends  who  anxiously  regarded  the  sacrifices  she  was 
making,  that  the  next  year  she  would  dismiss  her  school, 
and  allow  herself  that  repose  from  labor,  which  the  state  of 
her  health,  and  her  advancing  age  rendered  desirable.  But 
as  she  saw  the  path  of  usefulness,  widening  and  extending 
before  her,  she  deemed  this  an  indication  that  her  Heavenly 
Father  willed  for  her,  farther  labors. 

The  society  of  her  young  friends  and  daughters,  as  she 
fondly  called  Laura  and  Ida,  was  to  Mrs.  Newton  a  great 
source  of  happiness.  She  had  watched  the  unfolding  of  their 
characters  with  maternal  anxiety ;  with  a  mother's  pride,  she 
had  marked  their  maturing  virtues  and  loveliness ;  and  many 
of  her  thoughts  were  occupied  in  plans  for  their  welfare. 

She  had  hastened  homeward,  bent  on  penetrating  the  mys- 
tery of  the  letter  to  Louis  Norman,  and  of  Laura's  unhap- 
piness  and  illness,,  with  strong  suspicions,  as  to  the  persons 
with  whom  the  plot,  (for  evidently  there  was  a  plot,)  had 
originated. 

On  her  arrival  at  the  Hall,  she  requested  that  Miss  Went- 
worth,  still  her  assistant  and  trust-worthy  friend,  might  be 
called  to  her  apartment;  to  her  she  shewed  the  letter  which 
had  been  sent  to  Louis,  and  explained  the  circumstances 
connected  with  it ;  inquiring  of  Miss  Wentworth,  whether 
she  had  observed,  on  the  preceding  day,  any  thing  peculiar 
in  Laura  Landon's  conduct  or  appearance. 

Miss  Wentworth  informed  Mrs.  Newton,  that  when  the 
post-boy  delivered  his  letters,  one  of  the  girls  said,  "  here  is 
a  letter  for  Miss  Landon  superscribed  in  a  gentleman's  hand, 


IDA  NORMAL  167 


let  me  carry  it  to  her,  for  I  do  believe  it  is  from  Mr.  Nor- 
man ;"  that  soon  after  this,  she  saw  Dolly  Crump  open  a 
letter,  and  after  reading  it,  hastily,  she  heard  her  exclaim, 
"  No  indeed,  I  do  not  believe  Mr.  Norman  would  write  to 
Miss  Landon,  for  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  my 
sister  Maria,  in  which  she  says,  that  Mr.  Louis  Norman  is 
engaged  to  the  beautiful  and  rich  Miss  Selby." 

Miss  Wentworth  further  informed  Mrs.  Newton,  that 
feeling  some  interest  respecting  the  letter,  as  she  had  for 
some  time  expected  Mr.  Norman  would  formally  declare 
himself  to  Laura,  she  went  to  her  room,  where  she  found 
her  in  tears,  with  a  letter  in  her  hand.  "  After  urging  her 
for  some  time,"  said  Miss  Wentworth,  "  to  communicate 
to  me  the  cause  of  her  grief,  she  put  into  my  hand  a  letter, 
saying,  'when  you  have  read  this,  you  can  judge  whether  I 
have  not  cause  to  weep.  An  insult  from  such  a  source, 
who  would  have  expected  !'  " 

Miss  Wentworth  then  produced  the  letter,  soiled  with 
tears,  which  Laura  had  left  in  her  possession,  observing, 
"  the  more  I  have  reflected,  the  more  strongly  am  I  led  to 
think  there  is  some  iniquity  connected  with  this  letter; 
though  at  first,  I  was  so  confounded  that  I  could  say 
nothing,  knowing  as  I  do,  that  Julia  Selby  has  long  sought 
to  divert  the  attentions  of  Louis  to  herself,  and  that,  what 
she  attempts,  she  usually  succeeds  in." 

Mrs.  Newton  and  Miss  Wentworth,  were  astonished  to 
find  the  imitation  (for  such  they  doubted  not  it  was,)  of 
Louis  Norman's  hand  so  very  close  and  exact.  And  on 
comparing  with  Laura's  writing,  the  letter  which  Louis  had 
received  with  her  signature,  they  wondered  not  that  both 
had  been  deceived. 

"Have  you  any  idea  Miss  Wentworth,"  said  Mrs.  New- 
ton, "who  could  have  conceived  and  executed  such  an 
iniquitous  plot  as  this,  to  destroy  the  happiness  of  two 
worthy  young  persons  ?" 


168  IDA    NORMAN. 

"  I  have,"  replied  Miss  Wentworth,  "  a  strong  suspicion 
that  this  is  the  work  of  that  poor,  wretched  girl,  Maria 
Crump.  You  know  her  envious  disposition ;  and  especially 
how  much  ill-will  she  manifested  towards  Laura,  during  the 
whole  time  she  was  here ;  and  that  she  has  continued  her 
persecutions  since  she  left  school.  She  was  not,  of  course, 
invited  to  Julia  Selby's  party,  and  her  wicked  imagination 
set  itself  to  work ; — she  could  not  endure  to  think  that  Laura 
would  be  there,  attended  by  Louis  Norman.  Among  her  few 
accomplishments,  you  may  remember  she  had  the  faculty  of 
imitating  the  hand  writing  of  others,  with  surprising  exact- 
ness, and  that  she  was  frequently  detected  in  writing  anony- 
mous, and  forged  letters,  to  the  school  girls,  and  even  to 
persons  in  the  city." 

"It  is  sad  indeed,  dear  Miss  Wentworth,  to  .think  of 
such  depravity  among  the  young,  and  especially  those  who 
have  enjoyed  advantages  for  moral  instruction ;  of  all  our 
pupils,  Maria  Crump  and  Sally  Pry,  were  the  only  ones, 
who  seemed  beyond  the  reach  of  moral  culture.  This 
affair  decides  me  as  to  a  course  upon  which  I  have  for 
some  time  pondered ;  which  is,  to  request  the  parents  of  the 
two  younger  girls,  wh*  I  fear  are  no  better  than  their 
sisters,  to  take  them  from  school.  For  though  unwilling  to 
give  up  any  pupil  as  incorrigible,  I  ought  not  to  expose 
others  to  the  contagion  of  bad  example." 

"  Few  objections  will  be  made  to  this,"  said  Miss  Went- 
worth, "  I  have  been  disposed  to  advise  to  this  measure  for 
some  time ;  for  those  younger  sisters,  one  would  think, 
were  kept  here  as  spies  upon  us,  all.  Shall  I  send,  to-day, 
to  have  them  taken  home  ?" 

"  You  have  my  consent,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "  but  I  must 
leave  this  to  you.  I  am  very  anxious  to  know  how  Laura 
is,  and  to  relieve  her  mind  from  its  burthen  of  sorrow  by 
exculpating  the  noble  and  generous  Louis  from  the  dis- 
grace of  being  the  author  of  a  gross  insult." 


IDA   NORMAN.  169 

"Do  you  not  think,  Mrs.  Newton,"  said  Miss  Went- 
worth,  "that  Julia  Selby  should  be  cautioned  respecting 
her  very  marked  preference  for  Louis  Norman,  since  she 
has  every  reason  to  believe  his  affections  are  engaged  ?  I 
used  to  doubt  whether  she  preferred  him  or  William  Landon, 
but  since  the  latter  went  abroad,  I  have  observed  she  takes 
much  pains  to  attract  Louis.  Ought  she  not  to  be  advised 
on  the  subject?" 

"  How  could  any  advice  have  been  given,  my  dear  Miss 
Wentworth,  so  long  as  affairs  were  in  a  state  of  suspense? 
Louis  was  determined  to  place  himself  in  a  situation  to  live 
independently,  before  attempting  to  seek  the  affections  of 
any  one, — and  moreover,  he  desired  to  take  further  measures 
for  learning  the  fate  of  his  father,  before  forming  new  ties. 
His  own  partialities  for  Laura  Landon,  and  his  ingenuous  dis- 
position, had,  however,  led  him  to  expose  to  her  the  state  of 
his  affections,  beyond  what  he  had  intended;  at  least,  so  I 
had  inferred  from  his  own  candid  avowal  to  me,  and  from 
Laura's  remarks.  But  I  was  not  authorized  to  say  to  Julia 
Selby,  she  could  not  win  the  affections  of  young  Norman ; 
all  I  could  do,  was  to  tell  her  in  general  terms,  what  I 
thought  of  the  relation  existing  between  him  and  Laura, 
and  to  caution  her  against  indulging  an  attachment  for  any 
gentleman,  until  certain  of  his  preference  for  her.  But  I 
fear  that  Julia  may,  one  day,  fall  a  victim  to  her  desire  of 
power  over  the  affections  of  others.  Most  deeply  do  I  re- 
gret that  her  heart  has  hitherto  steeled  itself  against  those 
religious  influences,  which  alone  could  have  checked  her 
inordinate  thirst  for  admiration,  5nd  directed  the  energies 
of  her  mind  to  ennobling  pursuits ;  alas  !  the  world  has 
found  in  her  heart,  but  too  favorable  a  soil  for  the  growth  of 
poisonous  weeds,  which  more  and  more  choke  the  good  seed 
we  so  long  strove  to  sow.  Poor  Julia !  her  trials  are  yet  to 
come ;  she  is,  1  fear,  preparing  them  ;  and  bitter  will  they  be 
to  one  so  wholly  unused  to  defeat  or  disappointment." 
15 


170  IDA    KORMAK. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

IDA   NORMAN   IN  THE    KITCHEN. — MRS.   NEWTON'S  FEARS.— 
A    DECLARATION. 

AGAIN  was  Mrs.  Newton  seated  in  Mrs.  Landon's  parlor. 
She  found  Laura  much  refreshed  by  sleep,  and  able  to  sit 
up.  Mrs.  Landon  had  been  so  greatly  shocked  by  her 
daughter's  sudden  illness,  and  her  singular  appearance  on 
returning  from  the  party,  that  her  usual  fortitude  had  nearly 
deserted  her.  She  forbore  to  question  Laura,  because  she 
saw  that  whatever  might  be  the  cause  of  her  distress,  it  was 
something  she  wished  to  conceal ; — but  now  that  her  child 
was  better,  and  her  countenance,  though  sad,  was  again 
serene,  Mrs.  Lanclon's  composure  had  returned ;  and  she 
met  her  dear,  and  tried  friend,  Mrs.  Newton,  with  her  usual 
sweet  smile,  and  affectionate  welcome. 

"  And  where  is  Ida  ?"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  after  Mrs.  Landon 
had  informed  her  that  Laura  was  now  reclining  on  a  couch 
in  her  bed-room,  having  insisted  on  being  permitted  to  rise, 
and  put  on  a  wrapper;  "I  hope  she  has  made  herself  use- 
ful.". 

"  Oh  she  is  with  Serena  in  the  kitchen ;"  replied  Mrs. 
Landon,  smiling,  "  she  wished  to  have  the  direction  of  the 
dinner  to-day;  and  you  will  be  an  unexpected  guest,  for 
you  will,  of  course,  spend  the  day  with  us." 

"  Certainly,  I  would  not  fail  to  partake  of  Ida's  dinner," 
said  Mrs.  Newton.  "  She  has  a  great  fondness,  and  talent 
for  domestic  management." 

"She  has  a  talent  for  every  thing  good,  I  believe,"  said 
Mrs.  Landon,  "how  unlike  she  is  to  her  unfortunate  mother  ! 
She  you  know,  had  little  interest  in  attaining  excellence  in 
any  thing,  save  what  would  tend  to  promote  outward  show 


IDA    NORMAN.  171 

and  worldly  distinction.  When  I  behold  the  gifted  and  ac- 
complished daughter,  so  richly  endowed  with  intellectual 
acquirements,  and  high  moral  qualities,  and  think  what  she 
might  have  been  without  trials ;  nay,  more,  when  I  reflect 
upon  the  blessings,  which,  in  my  own  case,  followed  in  the 
train  of  what,  at  the  time,  seemed  evil,  I  can  adopt  the  lan- 
guage of  the  bard  of  Avon,  who  says ; 

(  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity, 
Which,  like  a  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 
Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head.' 

"Had  Ida  remained  with  her  mother,  and  in  a  state  of  pros- 
perity, how  unlike  would  her  character  have  been !  What 
a  different  woman  she  will  make,  with  her  many  trials, 
aided  by  a  judicious  education!" 

Leaving  the  two  ladies  in  the  parlor  to  discuss  Ida  Nor- 
man's excellenciea  ^  let  us  go  into  the  neat,  carpeted  kitchen, 
with  its  brass-headed  andirons,  its  mahogany  clock  of  olden 
time,  and  every  thing  necessary  and  convenient  for  culinary 
purposes. 

Ida  Norman  has  borrowed  an  apron  of  Mrs.  Landon,  and 
is  bustling  about  with  much  apparent  satisfaction. 

"  Do  you  think  Serena,"  says  she,  "  this  turkey  is  roast- 
ed ?  I  have  turned  and  basted  it  a  great  deal,  and  it  has  been 
on  the  fire  just  two  hours,  according  to  the  clock." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Ida,  this  is  nicely  done,  but  we  will  not  take 
it  up  until  the  vegetables  are  boiled." 

"Serena,  we  have  forgotten  to  make  the  gravy,  let  me 
make  it ; — where  is  the  sauce-pan,  and  the  butter,  and  flour  ?" 

"Miss  Ida  please  don't  pour  boiling  water  on  the  flour,  it 
will  make  it  hard,  so  that  it  will  be  all  in  lumps ;  you  must 
mix  it  with  cold  water,  and  pour  in  the  hot  by  degrees." 

"  That's  true  Serena ;  I  learned  that  in  chemistry,  but  your 
practical  knowledge  is  worth  all  the  theory  in  the  world  ; 
however,  I  shall  remember  that  next  time,  and  a  great  many 


172  IDA    NORMAN. 

other  things  you  have  told  me  to-day.  When  I  keep  house, 
dear  Serena,  I  hope  you  will,  sometimes,  come  and  instruct 
me  how  to  do  things  neatly,  for  I  would  like,  of  all  things, 
to  be  a  good  housekeeper." 

"Do  you  expect,  Miss  Ida,  to  be  married,  soon?"  said 
Serena  with  some  emphasis. 

"No  Serena,  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  be  married;  but 
I  often  dream  of  my  dear  father,  that  he  has  returned  to  his 
country,  and  that  we  are  living  in  our  own  beautiful  house, 
or  that,  which  was,  once,  ours ; — sometimes  my  mother  is 
there,  but  I  always  fancy  her  as  sick,  or  unable  to  direct 
about  any  thing,  and  that  I  have  the  care  of  the  house,  and 
am  very  busy  trying  to  make  all  comfortable  and  happy ;  and 
my  dear  father,  and  mother,  and  Louis,  all  appear  delighted ; 
but  just  as  every  thing  seems  nicely  settled,  I  awake,  and 
find  it  all  a  dream ;  and  when  I  recollect  that  my  mother 
has  long  since  been  laiH  in  the  grave,  that  my  father  is  far 
off,  we  know  not  where,  nor  in  what  condition ;  and  that 
strangers  now  occupy  that  house,  where  once  our  family 
circle  were  united,  I  cannot  but  weep,*and  sob  like  a  child." 

"Oh  Serena!"  cried  Ida,  "this  custard  which  I  wanted  to 
make  so  nice,  for  dear  Laura,  is  burning.  I  fear  it  is  spoiled." 

"The  stove  was  too  hot,  Miss  Ida." 

"  Well,  I  will  not  talk  any  more  ;  but  you  always  listen 
to  me  so  kindly,  and  seem  to  take  so  much  interest  in  Louis 
and  me — do  you  remember  me,  Serena,  when  I  used  to  come 
here  with  my  dear  mother,  and  when  William  gave  me  a 
white  kitten  to  carry  home  ?" 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Ida,  1  could  not  forget  you  ;  you  were  a 
beautiful  child,  but  I  thought  you  was  very  proud.  The 
only  time,  as  I  recollect  that  Master  Willie  was  ever  angry 
with  me,  was  for  my  saying  so — but,  dear  me,  you  have  put 
salt  enough  into  that  little  sauce-pan  of  soup  for  Miss  Laura, 
for  a  whole  pot  of  soup !" 

"Ah  Serena,  don't  blame  me,  my  hand  trembled,  and  I 


IDA    NORMAN.  e 

spilled  the  salt  over ; — but  you  must  never  tell  Willie  of4 
this,  that  is,  if  he  ever  comes  back, — I  do  not  know  why  I 
have  such  a  foreboding,  Serena,  but  I  often  think  Willie  will 
never  return ; — Europe  has  been  so  fatal  to  those  who  were 
dear  to  me."  * 

"  Do  you  think  your  father  is  still  living,  Miss  Ida  ?"  said 
Serena,  in  a  sympathising  voice. 

UI  have  never  heard  of  my  father's  death,  Serena,  and' 
such  suspense,  for  so  many  years,  is  far  more  distressing  to 
me,  than  would  be  the  certainty,  that  he  was  not  among  the 
living."  •*•»>.£ 

Mrs.  Newton  had  noticed  with  much  anxiety  that  Wil- 
liam Landon  was  often  in  Ida's  thoughts.     With  his  supe- 
rior excellencies  of  disposition,  his  truly  elevated  character^ 
and  his  success  in  business,  now  fully  established,  he  was  cer- 
tainly unobjectionable  to  Mrs.  Newton,  highly  as  s,he  thought 
of  Ida's  merits  and  claims.     But  the  choice  which  might  be 
made  by  William  Landon,  was,  in  Mrs.  Newton's  opinion, 
an  affair  of  uncei^taptjgbtt^ie  had  seen  the  effect  of  the  world 
upon  the  character  of  Julia  Selby ; — she  knew  human  na- 
ture;— was  it  strange  that  she  should  sometimes  doubt  as 
to  the  future  course  of  WTilliam  Landon  ?  travelling  as  one 
of  the  firm  of  the  great  house  of  Selby  &  Co.,  with  pass- 
ports of  introduction  to  the  first  and  most  refined  society,  it 
was  doubtful  whether  he  would  return  with  his  affections 
disengaged,  or  with  a  preference  for  any  American  lady ;  and 
if  he  did,  would  he  not  find  among  the  heiresses  of  New 
York,  some  one  who*  would  cause  him  to  forget  the  por- 
tionless Ida  Norman  ?     Such  were  some  of  Mrs.  Newton's 
cogitations,  and  queries,  respecting  the  future  happiness  of 
her  adopted  child. 

Ida  was  delighted  to  find  Mrs.  Newton  in  the  parlor,  and 
especially,  that  she  would  partake  of  the  dinner  which  she 
had  assisted  to  prepare.  .  ,v». 

The  simple  but  excellent  repast  did  credit  to  the  skill  of 
15* 


IDA    NORMAN. 

Sere«a  and  Ida ;  it  was  partaken  with  thankful  hearts,  and 
Reasoned  with  conversation,  witty,  sentimental,  sensible  and 
/'j>ioiis. 

j  y"  Louis  Norman  arrived  at  Mrs.  Landon's  at  the  appointed 
*      hour.     Mrs.  Newton  saw  him  alone,  and  to  his  astonish- 
»  /  Jment  and  dismay,  produced  the  letter  which  had  been  writ- 
•  ten  to  Laura,  in  his  name.     Had  any  proof  been  needed  to 
~j  ''convince  him  that  the  letter  he  had  received  was  a  forgery, 
'.   #kis  was  sufficient.     His  own  hand-writing   had  been  so 
*/  'closely  imitated,  that  he  could  scarcely  have  doubted  his 
i ,/  signature,'  had  it  not  been  appended  to  such  a  paper.     His 
*.'•''  (meek  bnrned  with  vexation,  at  the  thought  of  such  senti- 
ments having  been,  for  a  moment,  ascribed  to  him  by  Laura. 
*    He  wished  much  to  see  her  and  explain,  but  as  that  was  then 
impossible,  he  desired  Mrs.  Newton  to  do  so ; — and  solicit- 
ing a  private  interview  with  Mrs.  Landon,  he  expressed  to 
.-her  his  strong  and  deep  attachment  to  her  lovely  daughter; 
*and  his  desire  to  be  permitted  to  regard  her,  hereafter,  as 
.holding  to  himself  a  nearer  relatu^A^p^bfct  of  his  sister's 
"      friend.  y 

Mrs.  Landon,  knowing  something  of  the  state  of  Laura's 
affections,  and  having  long  regarded  Louis  with  the  highest 
cojrfidence.  and  esteem,  xlid  not  hesitateNo  encourage  him 
with  hope  for  the  future. 


•»>?*•• 


PART   III. 


CHAPTER    I. 

SELF-EDUCATION,    OR     THE     EARLY     HISTORY     OF     WILLIAM 
LANDON. MERIT     REWARDED. 

WILLIAM  LANDON  had  entered  the  establishment  of  Mr. 
Selby,  as  the  youngest  clerk ;  whose  duty  it  was,  to  fold  up 
the  goods,  keep  the  store  in  order,  and  carry  home  pack- 
ages. He  had  been  most  thankful  for  this  employment;  as 
the  small  stipend  he  received,  enabled  him  to  do  a  little  for 
his  mother.  At  night,  as  soon  as  released  from  duty,  he " 
might  have  been  seen  engaged  in  study,  under  the  direction 
of  his  mother,  whose  own  thorough  education  had  em- 
braced the  classics,  as  well  as  the  higher  departments  of 
English  literature.  He  made  more  rapid  progress  than 
most  boys  at  school ;  for  the  reason,  that  all  his  faculties 
were  engaged  in  the  work  of  improvement.  He  did  not  sit 
dozing  over  his  books,  but  grasped  the  subjects  before  him, 
with  the  whole  force  of  his  intellect.  With  Laura,  on  her 
frequent  Saturday  visits,  he  conned  at  night,  the  lessons  she 
was  learning;  and,  in  this  way,  gained  some  knowledge  of 
French  and  Italian,  and  the  first  principles  of  drawing. 

After  the  incidents  which  brought  Louis  Norman  to  seek 
his  friendship,  William  found  new  aid,  and  encouragement 
in  his  pursuit  of  knowledge.  Louis  had  been  one  of  the 
first  scholars  in  his  school,  especially  in  the  departments  of 
the  mathematics  and  the  natural  sciences,  and  a  new 


176  IDA  NORMAN. 

was  opened  to  William  in  the  study  of  the  books  of  his 
friend,  under  his  direction. 

Mr.  Ashburn,  perceiving  the  intimacy  of  the  young  men, 
and  their  manner  of  employing  their  leisure  time,  encour- 
aged William  to  visit  at  his  house ;  and  was  also  pleased  to 
have  Louis  pass  his  spare  evenings  with  William,  at  his 
mother's  dwellfng. 

In  early  life,  Mrs.  Ashburn  and  Mrs.  Landon  had  been 
visiting  acquaintances,  and  the  former,  on  learning  from 
Louis  where  Mrs.  Landon  lived,  called  to  see  her  with  the 
desire  of  drawing  her  out  from  her  obscurity ;  but  though 
she  found  her  cheerful,  and  even  happy,  she  could  not 
prevail  upon  her  to  return  her  visits,  or  consent  to  renew 
her  intercourse  with  society.  Truly  elevated  in  character, 
Mrs.  Landon  was  above  that  littleness  which  seeks  to  exalt 
itself  by  contact  with  those  of  higher  rank.  She  knew  her 
own  position,  and  was  willing  others  should  know  it. 
With  her,  "  real  and  apparent,"  were  the  same. 

Mrs.  Landon  had  sedulously  trained  up  her  children  to 
entertain  a  just  pride  of  character,  and  .to  regard  as  mean 
and  vulgar,  all  attempts  to  conceal  by  artifice  and  manage- 
ment, the  real  condition,  in  which,  by  the  appointments  of 
Providence,  they  might  be  placed,  or  any  of  the  accom- 
panying circumstances  of  that  condition.  In  order  to 
explain  her  ideas  of  what  was  vulgar,  Mrs.  Landon,  in  one 
of  her  conversations  with  her  children,  related  the  following 
anecdote  :  "  As  I  was,  in  my  youth,  paying  a  morning  visit 
to  a  young  married  lady  with  whom  I  had  a  slight  acquaint- 
ance, I  chanced  to  observe  from  the  window,  a  plain, 
country-looking  man  taking  from  a  cart,  in  front  of  the 
house,  some  barrels  of  apples,  tubs  of  butter,  &.c.  The 
husband  of  the  lady  was  standing  by  the  cart  but  did 
not  offer  to  assist  the  man  in  lifting  out  the  things,  or  in 
carrying  them  into  the  house.  The  lady  looking  out,  at 
the  same  time,  exclaimed,  '  Oil  there  is  the  servant  of  Mr. 


IDA    NORMAN.  177 

Smith's  mother,  bringing  us  some  nice  apples,  and  other  good 
things  from  her  farm ;  she  has  such  a  beautiful  country- 
seat,  and  such  a  nice  farm !'  This  servant,  I  afterwards 
accidently  learned,  was  the  kind,  but  plain  step-father  of 
Mrs.  Smith's  husband,  and  had  kindly  brought  from  his  own 
farm  (for  Mr.  Smith's  mother  had  no  farm  but  his)  these 
presents  to  the  young  people,  just  commencing  house-keep- 
ing, and,  as  he  knew,  with  limited  means,  and  extravagant 
notions." 

"Now,  my  children,"  continued  Mrs.  Landon,  "I  leave 
you  to  say,  who  were  the  vulgar  in  this  transaction,  whether 
the  gentleman  in  fine  broadcloth,  and  the  lady  in  silk  and 
laces,  or  the  kind  and  beneficent  farmer  in  his  homespun 
dress." 

Though  Mrs.  Landon  had  no  desire  to  enter  again  the 
selfish  and  heartless  world,  yet,  still,  with  a  mother's  pride 
in  her  children,  a  consciousness  of  their  talents,  personal 
advantages,  and  native  grace  and  elegance  of  manners 
would,  in  spite  of  her  piety,  and  her  own  bitter  experience 
of  the  vanity  of  worldly  favor  and  fortune,  lead  her  to  form 
high  expectations  for  their  future  lives ;  and  to  indulge  in 
weaving  from  the  golden  threads  of  fancy,  many  a  beautiful 
and  gorgeous  piece  of  tapestry,  in  the  foreground  of  whose 
scenes,  William  and  Laura  occupied  the  first  place, — she, 
the  while,  looking  on  from  some  unobserved  corner,  en- 
joying, but  not  partaking  in  their  triumphs.  We  say  not, 
there  was  no  inconsistency  in  this. — We  are  describing 
human  nature  as  it  is,  not,  as  in  a  more  perfect  state,  it 
might  be.  Yet,  neither  would  we  affirm  that  Mrs.  Landon, 
as  a  Christian,  was  wrong  in  desiring  her  children's  ad- 
vancement in  the  world,  if  procured  by  honest  and  honorable 
means. 

As  William's  character  developed  itself,  his  mother 
was  more  and  more  struck  with  his  resemblance,  in  per- 
son and  talents,  to  his  highly  gifted  father.  But,  there 


178  IDA    NORMAN. 

was  a  striking  difference,  in  one  respect,  as  his  mother  re- 
joiced to  see, — William  seemed  free  from  all  morbid  sensi- 
bility, and  cheerfully  to  take  the  world  as  he  found  it ; — his 
father's  mind  was  attuned  to  a  higher  key  than  accorded 
with  the  notes  of  common  life ;  the  discord  grated  harshly 
on  the  sensitive  nerves  of  his  too  delicate  mental  organi- 
zation, and  this,  rather  than  physical  disease,  wore  out, 
even  in  youth,  the  frail  investment  of  that  high-toned,  almost 
celestial  spirit. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  fond  mother  to  herself, 

'Bright  as  the  manly  sire,  the  son  shall  be, 
In  form  and  face,  but  ah!  more  blest  than  he.' 

Though  William  Landon,  pursued  with  ardor  and  success 
his  literary  studies,  and  drank  with  undiminished  thirst  at 
the  fountains  of  knowledge,  in  such  times  as  he  could  be 
spared  from  ordinary  pursuits ;  yet,  in  his  business,  he  was 
as  attentive,  as  if  he  had  not  a  single  idea  beyond  the  folding 
up  of  a  parcel,  making  entries  on  a  ledger,  or  counting  over 
the  contents  of  the  money-drawer; — no  fine  abstractions 
were  permitted  to  divert  his  mind  from  the  actual,  and  real 
before  him ; — nor  had  any  one  ever  occasion  to  remark, 
that,  "though  William  Landon  might  have  talents  and 
genius  of  some  kind,  he  had  none  for  practical  applications," 
or  in  plain  terms,  that  he  had,  "all  kinds  of  sense  but 
common  sense." 

Had  Mr.  Selby  seen  in  him  the  least  want  of  attention, 
the  least  forgetfulness  of  duty,  his  own  rigid  notions  would 
have  been  offended,  and  his  confidence  withdrawn.  For 
years,  Mr.  Selby  observed  William's  actions,  with  that 
scrutiny,  which  men  of  the  world  find  necessary  in  respect 
to  the  capacity,  fidelity  and  honesty  of  their  business-agents. 
In  all  this  time,  William  received  no  praise  from  his  em- 
ployer, except  the  silent  approbation  expressed  in  bestowing 
additional  confidence.  William  Landpn  had  evidently  be- 


IDA   NORMAN.  179 

come  a  favorite  with  Mr.  Selby,  who  began  to  entrust  him 
•with  confidential  business,  and  affairs  of  importance.  At 
length,  Mr.  Landon  was  acknowledged  as  the  head-clerk  of 
the  great  establishment ;  a  promotion  which  gladdened  his 
heart,  more  on  account  of  his  mother  and  sister,  than  his 
own,  as  the  salary  he  would  now  receive,  would  enable 
him  to  render  them  important  assistance.  But  he  still 
found  time  for  literary  pursuits;  and  had  no  difficulty  in 
changing  from  business  to  study,  and  from  study  to  busi- 
ness, but  rather  found  his  mind  invigorated  and  refreshed 
by  the  variety. 

"Mr.  Landon,"  said  Mr.  Selby  one  day,  after  having 
observed  him  for  some  time,  engrossed  in  the  examination 
of  a  huge  pile  of  accompt  books,  "  you  may,  if  you  please, 
leave  that  business  for  a  few  minutes ;  I  wish  to  speak  with 
you  respecting  yourself." 

William  looked  up,  surprised  at  such  an  act  of  con- 
descension, and  a  departure  from  a  rule  of  the  house,  to 
permit  no  conversation  irrelevant  to  business,  in  business- 
hours. — He  bowed  respectfully,  and  placed  himself  in  a 
listening  attitude. 

Mr.  Selby  began,  "  I  have  long  taken  due  note  of  you, 
Mr.  Landon,  and  am  pleased  with  your  business  talents. 
I  think  you  had  better  begin  to  learn  the  French  language, 
as  I  may  wish  to  send  you  abroad.  Besides,  you  are  too 
fine  a  fellow  to  be  always  confined  to  the  counting-house, 
without  any  opportunity  of  learning  that  there  is  other 
reading  than  what  exists  between  the  covers  of  a  merchant's 
books.  It  is  desirable  that  a  merchant  should  be  a  gentle- 
man, and  a  scholar.  What  do  you  say  to  commencing  a 
course  of  classical  studies,  as  well  as  of  modern  languages  ? 
I  am  willing  to  exempt  you  from  some  of  your  arduous 
duties,  to  enable  you  to  pay  attention  to  the  improvement 
of  your  mind." 

William's  wonder  increased ;  it  was  the  first  time  in  all 


180  IDA  NORMAN. 

their  intercourse,  that  his  employer  had  ever  spoken  to  him 
except  upon  business ;  and  the  possibility  of  his  regarding 
him  in  any  other  light,  than  as  a  useful  agent  in  his  employ, 
had  never  entered  his  imagination. 

"I  am  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Selby,"  said  William,  mod- 
estly, "for  thinking  of  me;  and  highly  honored  by  the 
interest  you  take  in  my  welfare.  With  respect  to  the 
French  language,  I  have  for  some  years  practised  speaking 
it,  though  ray  knowledge  of  it,  is  but  imperfect." 

"  Fraimen/.,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Selby,  "  vous  parlez,  Fran- 
$ais  ?  quand  Pavez — vous  appres  ?  vous  vous  occupez  toujours 
de  moi." 

"Pardonnez  moi.  Monsieur"  said  William,  "fai  beaucoup 
de  temps  a  moi  pour  me  perfectionner ;  maintenant  tout 
Vapres  diner,  et  precedemment,  tout  le  temps  apres  neuf 
heures  du  soir." 

"  Vous  avez  tout  a  fait  V accent  Parisien,  il  est  beaucoup 
meilleur  que  le  mien;  quoique  etantjeune,  fai  vicu  a  Paris 
quatre  ans  ajin  d*y  apprendre  la  langue  Fran^dise?* 

But  I  must  express  myself  in  plain  English ; — it  surprises 
me  that  you  have  found  time  to  perfect  yourself  in  a  foreign 
language ; — have  you  made  equal  advances  in  English  lit- 
erature ? 

"  My  recreation,"  said  William,  "  has  consisted  in  study. 
I  know  that,  in  general,  young  men  of  my  age  and  condition 
in  life,  are  in  the  habit  of  spending  their  leisure  hours  at  the 
theatre,  or  other  places  of  amusement ;  but  I  have  found,  as 
I  think,  a  nobler,  and  certainly,  to  me,  a  far  more  interesting 

•"Indeed,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Selby,  "you  speak  French?  how  have 
you  learned  it?  you  are  always  at  work  for  me." 

"Pardon  me  sir,"  said  William,  "I  have  much  time  for  my  im- 
provement; all  the  time  now  after  dinner,  and  formerly,  after  nine 
o'clock  at  night." 

"  Your  accent  is  quite  Parisian,  it  is  much  better  than  mine,  though 
when  I  was  young,  I  lived  in  Paris  four  years  to  acquire  the  French 
language." 


IDA   NORMAN.  181 

employment  in  books.  My  mother's  early  education,  which 
was  much  above  what  might  be  expected  from  her  present 
humble  circumstances,  enabled  her  to  instruct  me  in  English 
literature ;  and  to  assist  me  so  far  in  the  rudiments  of  the 
ancient  classics,  that  I  could  continue  my  reading  through 
the  course  pursued  in  colleges.  My  sister's  advantages  in 
Mrs.  Newton's  school  had  rendered  her  proficient  in  the 
French  and  Italian,  which  languages  I  studied  with  her; 
and  young  Mr.  Norman,  who  is  an  excellent  mathematical 
scholar,  and  well  versed  in  the  physical  sciences,  has  aided 
me  in  those  departments.  Mr.  Norman  was,  as  you  may 
perhaps  recollect  sir,  in  school  with  your  two  elder  sons 
at  Mr.  Delaplaine's,  where  he  ranked  among  the  first 
scholars. — He  is  my  only  intimate  friend ;  we  spend  much 
of  our  leisure  time  together,  and  usually  converse  in  the 
French  language.  Excuse  me,  sir,  for  this  egotism  ;  I  should 
never  have  thought  of  intruding  my  private  history  upon, 
you,  but  as  you  have  inquired  respecting  my  education,  I 
hope  I  may  be  pardoned  for  saying  so  much  of  myself." 

"  It  is  a  noble  history,"  said  Mr.  Selby,  "  and  should  be 
printed  in  letters  of  gold,  as  a  proof  of  what  may  be  accom- 
plished by  perseverance.  I  have  for  some  time,  Mr.  Landon, 
observed  with  much  approbation,  your  industry,  freedom 
from  false  pride,  and  your  high  sense  of  probity  and 
honor.  With  your  talents,  energies  and  moral  worth,  you 
must  rise  in  a  country  like  ours,  where  there  are  no  barriers 
of  caste )  nor  privileged  orders. 

"As  you  can  speak  French,  what  say  you  to  going 
abroad,  and  looking  into  the  commercial  affairs  of  our  house 
in  Europe  ?  And  that  you  may  feel  the  deeper  interest  in 
the  concern,  I  now  propose,  what  I  have  before  thought  of, 
as  being  an  event  in  the  distant  future,  that  you  should 
become  a  partner  in  the  business.  I  shall  feel  perfect  confi- 
dence in  entrusting  you  with  its  entire  management;  and 

16 


182  IDA    NORMAL. 

as  you  well  know,  it  is  a  heavy  concern,  with  a  capital  of 
more  than  half  a  million. 

"  You  hesitate,  Mr.  Landon,"  said  Mr.  Selby,  "  perhaps 
you  have  other  plans ;  but  I  assure  you,  that  to  no  other 
man  living,  would  I  make  such  a  proposition." 

"My  hesitation  sir,"  replied  Landon,  "proceeds  from  my 
surprise,  and  an  overwhelming  sense  of  the  trust,  you 
propose  to  honor  me  with; — you  know,  sir,  I  am  poor." 

"  I  know  too,  you  are  honest." 

"You  know  I  am  young,  and  have  seen  little  of  the 
world." 

"I  know  you  have  a  mature  mind,  and  judgment  in 
business,  almost  unerring.  I  am  not  a  man,  Mr.  Landon, 
to  act  without  reflection.  I  am  decided  in  my  offer,  which 
is  briefly  this ;— that  you  become  an  active  partner  in  my 
commercial  business,  entitled  to  share  equally  in  its  profits, 
I  furnishing  capital,  and  you  labor.  Do  you  accept?" 

"  I  do  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  may  God  enable  me  to 
do  my  duty,  and  to  meet  your  expectations." 

"Well  then  Mr.  Landon,"  said  Mr.  Selby,  his  counte- 
nance relaxing  to  a  smile,  "as  we  are  now  Selby  &>  Co.,  you 
must  go  home  and  dine  with  me." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  William,  "  to  feel  obliged  to  decline 
your  very  kind  invitation ;  but  at  an  era  of  such  deep  im- 
portance to  me,  I  would  seek  my  mother,  and  impart  to  her 
the  great  change,  caused  by  this  arrangement,  in  my  cir- 
cumstances and  prospects.  She  has  lived  but  for  her  chil- 
dren, it  is  their  duty  to  think  first  of  her." 

44  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Selby.  "  I  honor  you  for 
your  attachment  to  your  parent.  I  wish  my  own  sons  were 
more  like  you  in  this  respect.  However,  I  have  not  much 
to  complain  of  the  two  elder,  but  Frank  is  rather  perverse, 
not  really  vicious,  nor  absolutely  rebellious,  but  giddy  and 
extravagant.  He  seems  to  have  no  idea  of  any  thing  like 
business  habits ;  in  fact,  he  is  not  in  a  good  way.  I  should 


IDA    NORMAN.  183 

wish  him  to  accompany  you  abroad ; — will  you  take  charge 
of  him  ?" 

"  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  him,  sir ;  we  may  be  able  to  assist 
each  other." 

"  It  is  very  little  assistance  Frank  will  ever  give  any  one, 
I  fear;  the  idea  of  his  father's  wealth  has  always  been  up- 
permost in  his  mind.  But  Julia  is  affectionate  and  dutiful, 
and  loves  her  father  for  his  own  sake.  Their  mother,  Mr. 
Landon,  was  a  rare  woman ;  I  relied  much  on  her  good 
judgment,  in  advising  her  children ;  but  she  is  no  longer 
with  me  to  divide  my  cares."  The  apparently  apathetic  Mr. 
Selby  brushed  away  the  tears,  evincing  more  sensibility 
than  his  head  clerk  had  supposed  he  possessed. 

"  How  little,"  thought  William,  "  how  little  of  the  feel- 
ings of  the  heart,  which  constitute  all  that  renders  life  truly 
desirable,  has  been  exhibited  in  the  daily  intercourse  of  bu- 
siness, in  which,  for  years,  we  two  have  been  engaged !  How 
different,  the  inner  life  of  man  from  the  ostensible !" 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE      VOTAGE. A     RICH      MAN7S      SON. FRANK    SELBY's 

SUSCEPTIBILITY. 

WITHIN  three  months  after  the  generous  and  unexpected 
proposals  of  Mr.  Selby,  which  at  once  placed  William  Lan- 
don in  a  distinguished  position,  among  the  first  merchants 
of  the  country;  he,  in  company  with  Frank  Selby,  was 
ploughing  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic,  on  his  way  to  Liverpool. 

Though  Frank  §*elby  was  wild  and  thoughtless,  he  had 


184  IDA    NORMAN. 

an  amiable  disposition,  and  did  not  willingly  commit  errors ; 
but  his  great  faults  were,  a  want  of  reflection  upon  the  con- 
sequences of  his  actions,  and  habits  of  indolence.  He  had 
from  childhood,  been  accustomed  to  hear  of  his  father's 
wealth ;  and,  very  naturally  had  imbibed  the  notion,  that  he 
had  little  to  do  in  the  world,  but  much  to  enjoy.  He  had  never 
applied  himself  seriously  to  any  study,  or  pursuit,  and  had, 
hitherto,  shewn  little  force  of  character. 

His  father,  himself  energetic,  and  the  artificer  of  his  own 
fortune,  had  been  much  disappointed  in  his  youngest  son, 
Frank ;  and  when  he  proposed  his  accompanying  William 
Landon  abroad,  it  was  with  the  design  of  breaking  up  inti- 
macies and  associations  of  an  injurious  nature.  Mr.  Selby 
had  also  promised  himself  advantages,  in  placing  his  son  in 
companionship  with  one,  for  whose  judgment,  principles, 
and  habits,  he  entertained  an  exalted  opinion. 

Mr.  Landon  improved  in  various  ways,  the  leisure  afforded 
him  by  his  voyage.  He  first  studied  into  the  nature  of  the 
business  operations  committed  to  his  charge,  and  made  him- 
self master  of  the  principal  points  to  be  secured ;  he  ascer- 
tained what  obstacles  would  be  likely  to  present  themselves  ; 
and,  as  far  as  the  memoranda  furnished  him  by  Mr.  Selby, 
would  enable  him,  learned  the  peculiarities  of  the  various 
individuals  in  the  different  cities  of  Europe  with  whom  their 
house  had  commercial  relations.  He  had  furnished  himself 
with  books  of  travels,  and  read,  attentively,  every  thing  which 
he  could  find,  relative  to  the  countries  they  were  to  visit ; 
and  traced  his  route  upon  the  maps  with  which  he  had  taken 
care  to  provide  himself. 

"That's  a  capital  thought  Landon,"  said  Frank  Selby,  as 
he  saw  a  map  the  former  had  projected  of  their  proposed 
route,  "but  I  never  should  have  thought  of  it." 

"  How  could  we  travel  without  a  plan,  Frank  ?" 

"  I  never  planned  any  thing,"  was  tlie  answer. 

"I  advise   you   then,"   said   Landon,  "to  begin  now; 


IDA    NORMAN.  185 

make  a  plan  for  your  future  life,  and  keep  to  it  as  closely 
as  you  can,  or  until  you  find  you  can  make  a  better  one." 

"My  plan,  at  present,  is  to  enjoy  this  trip  to  Europe," 
replied  Frank. 

"You  would  enjoy  it  all  the  better,  my  dear  fellow,  for 
arranging  a  plan  of  operations." 

"  Why  should  I  plan  any  thing,"  said  Frank,  "  my  father 
has  no  confidence  in  me ;  he  has  entrusted  every  thing  of 
importance  to  you,  comparatively,  a  stranger.  I  cannot 
have  a  sixpence,  without  taking  off  my  hat,  and  saying, 
'  please  Mr.  Landon,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  a 
little  money  ?'  This  is  no  way  to  make  a  man  of  a  fellow. 
I  respect  you  Landon,  and  do  not  blame  you  for  what  my 
father  has  done  5  but  ask  yourself  if  it  be  not  provoking 
to  a  young  fellow  of  my  age,  to  be  treated  like  a  child ;  and 
to  see  one,  but  a  few  years  older  than  himself,  placed  by 
his  father  in  a  position,  in  all  respects,  above  him ;  in  fact,  to 
be  made  a  dependent  on  that  stranger. 

"Now  there's  our  Julia,  there  is  no  extravagance  she  is 
not  permitted  to  run  into  ; — I  saw  father,  last  winter,  pay  a 
jeweller  for  her  paraphernalia,  a  bill  of  about  ten  thousand 
dollars;  but  to  my  mind,  she  does  not,  when  she  is  dressed 
out  in  all  her  trinkets  and  furbelows,  compare  with  that 
superb  Miss  Norman,  who  is  a  teacher  in  Mrs.  Newton's 
school,  and  who  never  wears  ornaments.  Did  you  ever 
see  that  magnificent  young  lady,  Landon  ?  but  I  presume 
you  never  did ;  for  you  have  neither  eyes,  nor  heart  for 
any  thing,  but  invoices,  bills  of  exchange,  dry  goods,  &c. 
but  you  have  lost  something,  I  can  tell  you,  in  not  having 
seen  that  queen-like  beauty.  There's  not  a  lady  walks 
Broadway  who  is  stared  at  as  she  is,  when  she  is  seen 
there,  but  that's  not  often  •,  and  then  she  is  so  innocent  of 
the  havoc  she  makes,  and  seems  not  even  to  know  that  she 
is  looked  at." 

"  I  did  not  say  Frank,  that  I  had  never  seen  Miss  Nor- 
16* 


186  IDA   NORMAN. 

man,"  said  Landon,  slightly  coloring,  "  she  is  an  intimate 
friend  of  my. sister's." 

"  Oh,  I  might  have  known  that,  as  they  have  often  visited 
Julia  together ;  I  like  your  sister  very  much,  too,  and  was 
at  a  loss  which  to  admire  most,  but  they  did  not  seem  to 
admire  me  at  all ; — and  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  know 
what  to  say  to  them,  for  I  suppose  they  are  very  literary, 
and  so  I  acted  like  a  fool. 

"Do  you  know,  Landon,  whether  Ida  Norman  is  engaged  ? 
I  have  often  thought,  if  I  was  ready  to  be  married,  I  would 
select  her  for  a  wife,  sooner  than  any  other  young  lady  I 
ever  saw.  To  be  sure  she  has  not  money,  but  father  is 
rich  enough  to  support  me,  and  my  family  too,  if  I  had  one. 
I  should  not  think,  Louis  Norman  with  all  his  reputation 
as  a  lawyer,  and  a  good  practice,  would  let  his  sister,  espe- 
cially such  a  splendid  girl  as  she  is,  spend  her  time  in 
teaching  dunces,  shut  up  from  the  world,  in  that  gloomy 
prison,  which  I  suppose  Science  Hall  to  be.  I  think  when 
I  sow  my  wild  oats  (which  I  reckon  are  nearly  run  out) 
father  will  be  willing  to  give  me  one  of  his  estates  on  the 
Hudson ;  and  then  I'll  just  step  up  to  Miss  Ida  Norman,  if 
I  can  pluck  up  courage  to  pop  the  question,  and  ask  her  to 
become  Mrs.  Frank  Selby.  Won't  that  be  capital!  And 
she  shall  have  as  many  jewels  as  sister  Jule,  who  will 
then,  as  to  looks,  be  no  more  to  her,  than  a  candle  to  the 
sun — how  provoked  -Jule  would  be,  for  she  has  no  idea  of 
having  any  one  out-shine  her;  ha!  ha!  ha!  Why  don't 
you  laugh,  Landon  ?  Don't  you  really  think  Ida  Norman 
and  your  humble  servant  would  make  an  elegant  pair  r" 
And  Frank  paraded  before  the  looking  glass  of  their  state 
room  with  much  complacency. 

Landon  seemed  engaged  with  his  books,  and  did  not 
look  up,  but  merely  said,  "  excuse  me  just  now,  for  not 
.joining  in  your  mirth,  I  do  not  feel  in  a  laughing  mood." 

"  It  is  plain  to  see  Landon,  that  you  feel  no  interest  in 


IDA    NORMAN.  187 

the  ladies ;  most  likely,  you  have  not  heard  a  word,  I  said ; 
well,  I  suppose  business  habits  render  the  heart  insen- 
sible, and  that  is  one  objection  I  have  to  business. — I 
should  be  sorry  to  go  through  a  hardening  process;  for 
though  my  great  susceptibility  causes  me  some  heart-aches, 
I  would  not  become  such  a  stoic,  as  you  are,  even  for  the 
honor  of  being  the  junior  Selby  &  Co." 

Landon  looked  up,  with  an  expression,  which  would  have 
been  contemptuous,  had  not  pity  given  it  a  softer  cast ;  but 
Frank,  who  did  not  look  very  deep,  had  no  conception  that 
his  companion  was  thinking  of  any  thing,  in  particular 


CHAPTER    III. 

LOUIS  NORMAN'S  LETTER. — DOUBTS. 

BESIDES  the  huge  packages  of  business  papers,  letters  of 
introduction,  &c.  which  Landon  examined,  at  his  leisure, 
during  his  voyage;  he  perused  with  deep  attention,  the  fol- 
lowing letter,  which  Louis  Norman  had  put  into  his  hand, 
at  the  moment  of  parting. 

"Providence,  my  friend,  has  drawn  us  together,  in  the 
closest  bonds  of  affection  and  brotherhood.  Through 
humiliation,  and  through  toil,  we  have  found  in  mutual 
friendship,  support  and  consolation.  We  are  both,  now,  in 
a  condition  in  life,  far  above  what  we  could  have  reasonably 
expected ; — nay,  a  few  short  years  since,  it  would  have 
seemed  but  cruel  mockery,  to  have  suggested  to  us  the  proba- 
bility of  our  ever  occupying  our  present  positions,  and  more 
especially,  at  so  early  a  period  in  our  lives.  William  Lan- 
don, the  poor  shop-boy,  who  carried  bundles  through  the 
streets  of  New  York,  is  now  known  on  'Change,'  as  one 


188  IDA    NORMAN. 

of  the  first  merchants  of  the  city,  and  his  name  is  con- 
sidered 'good  for  any  amount.'  Louis  Norman,  the  home- 
less out-cast,  thanks  to  the  noble  and  generous  Ashburn, 
holds  a  respectable  rank  at  the  bar ;  his  words  are  listened 
to,  'as  words  of  wisdom,'  among  the  learned,  and  his  advice 
sought,  by  the  wise,  and  grey-headed.  He  has  power  to 
defend  the  oppressed,  and  gain  redress  for  the  injured. 
This  I  say,  not  in  a  spirit  of  boasting,  but  of  thanksgiving, 
attributing  the  praise  to  Him,  who  directs  the  issues  of  all 
human  events. 

"  You,  my  friend,  have  urged  me  to  accept  the  proffered 
honors,  which  partial  friends  would  bestow  upon  me — but 
I  would  avoid  political  ambition;  it  was  the  'rock'  on 
which  my  father  'split.'  Yet  men  are  often  led  into  the 
very  paths  they  fear;  and  I  beg,  that  you,  Landon,  as  you 
love  me,  will  never  solicit  me  to  offer  myself,  as  candidate 
for  office. 

"But  it  is  of  my  father,  I  wish  to  write. — You  know  that 
the  thought  of  him,  and  the  gloomy  mystery  connected  with 
his  fate,  is  an  incubus  upon  my  spirits;  and  that  I  consider 
myself  as  delinquent  in  not  having,  before  this,  made  greater 
personal  efforts  to  obtain  some  information  respecting  him. 
If  he  is  dead,  his  children  should  know  the  place  where  his 
ashes  rest,  that  filial  love  may  hallow  the  sacred  spot; — 
if  he  lives  in  obscurity  and  suffering,  he  should  be  found, 
and  his  heart,  lightened  of  its  burthen  of  sorrows,  by  the 
affectionate  sympathy  of  his  children.  You,  my  dear 
Landon,  know  the  history  of  my  father;  there  are  circum- 
stances of  a  deeply  painful  and  humiliating  character,  con- 
nected with  it  The  name  of  Norman  has  been  blackened, 
and  I  have  often  blushed  to  answer  to  it :  ah !  you  know  not, 
my  friend,  the  sinking  of  heart  caused  by  a  consciousness 
of  bearing  a  disgraced  name.  Oh,  if  that  name  could  but 
be  rescued  from  reproach,  what  a  load  would  be  removed 
from  my  heart! 


IDA    NORMAN.  189 

"I  wish  you,  my  friend,  to  search  for  my  father  while  you 
are  on  the  continent;  spare  not,  I  entreat  you,  time,  labor 
nor  expense  in  tracing  him  out.  The  last  intelligence  we 
had  of  him,  was  through  letters  to  Mr.  Ashburn,  at  the  time 
he  sent  that  draft,  for  the  use  of  my  sister  and  myself,  which 
Mr.  Delaplaine  withheld  from  us.  From  the  amount  of  the 
draft,  greater  than  he  had  before  sent  at  any  time,  and  also 
from  an  intimation  in  his  letter  to  Mr.  Ashburn,  he  appears 
to  have  regarded  it  as  a  last  and  final  effort  for  his  children  ; 
and  this  would  have  been  lost  to  us,  but  for  the  providential 
circumstance,  that  my  father,  incidentally,  mentioned  in  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Ashburn,  the  fact  of  his  having  made  such 
remittance;  and  the  no  less  providential  event  which  led 
me  to  go  to  Mr.  Ashburn,  in  my  destitution,  to  aid  me  by 
his  legal  advice.  Having  experienced  the  care  of  an  over- 
ruling Providence  in  so  many  of  the  circumstances  of  my 
own  life,  I  cannot  but  believe,  that  my  father,  too,  has  been 
preserved  by  that  same  beneficient  power;  and  that  light  will 
yet  spring  out  of  the  darkness  which  surrounds  his  destiny  ; — 
using  the  word,  destiny,  not  in  the  ancient,  heathen  sense  of 
fortune  or  fate,  so  opposed  to  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the 
special,  divine  providence  of  one  Supreme  Deity. 

"  My  father's  last  letter  to  Mr.  Ashburn,  you  will  find  in 
this  package, — the  hand-writing  may  possibly  aid  you  in 
your  search;  and  should  you  succeed,  which  may  Heaven 
grant,  the  possession  of  that  letter,  might  be  an  evidence  to  him 
that  you  act  from  friendly  motives.  Something  whispers 
me,  that  you,  my  dear  Landon,  who  are  so  persevering,  so 
successful  in  all  you  undertake,  will  be  able  to  gain  intelli- 
gence of  a  man,  who,  wherever  he  is,  if  he  be  yet  among 
the  living,  cannot  be  in  such  entire  obscurity  as  to  elude  all 
search.  With  my  father's  noble  nature,  it  cannot  be  that 
he  has  become  abandoned  to  vice.  Though  ambition,  and 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his  early  life,  might  have 
warped  his  moral  perceptions,  still  the  image  of  virtue  was 


190  IDA    NORMAN. 

enshrined  within  his  heart ;  and  to  this,  when  his  mind  was 
unbiassed,  he  ever  rendered  homage.    • 

"You  know,  my  friend,  that  it  has  been  the  great  desire  of 
ray  life,  to  go  abroad,  and  devote  myself  to  this  duty,  which 
I  now  ask  you  to  perform ; — but  with  the  increase  of  my 
professional  business,  new  difficulties  have  opposed  them- 
selves to  my  project.     But  Providence,  that  Providence  in 
whom  I  trust,  has  unexpectedly  called  you  to  embark  for 
Europe;  and  your  commercial  affairs  will  lead  you  to  Italy. 
When  I  rejoiced  at  your  good  fortune  in  being  made  a  part- 
ner of  the  great  importing  house  of  Selby  &,  Co.,  and  espe- 
cially at  the  pleasant  prospect  before  you  of  this  voyage,  I 
acknowledge  that  I  selfishly  thought  of  the  interests  of  my 
own  family,  with  which  you  and  yours  have  been  so  long 
associated :  and  a  feeling  of  hope  sprang  up  in  my  breast, 
that  you  was  to  be  the  discoverer  of  my  long  lost  father. 
This  hope  has  been  so  indulged  (almost  to  expectation) 
that  I  have  written  to  my  father,  the  letter  of  introduction 
which  is  enclosed  in  this  package.     If  I  am,  on  this  subject, 
a  mono-maniac,  mine  is,  at  least,  a  species  of  insanity  founded 
in  worthy  emotions,  filial  love,  and  a  regard  for  honor  •, — 
and  most  joyfully  would  I  devote  all  the  powers  of  my 
mind,  and  deprive  myself  of  every  thing  but  the  bare  neces- 
saries of  life,  to  be  able  to  pay  the  just  debts  of  my  father, 
and  rescue  the  name  of  the  family  from  reproach. 

"  You  know  the  sentiments  I  have  long  cherished  for  your 
lovely  sister;  and,  that,  I  have  some  cause  to  hope  she  is 
not  indifferent  to  my  affection.  But  how  can  I  offer  her  a 
heart  which  is  a  prey  to  corroding  suspense,  and  gloomy  ap- 
prehensions !  I  have,  therefore,  maintained  towards  her  a 
reserve  of  manner,  which  may  have  caused  her  to  think  me 
inconsistent ; — the  position  must  be  as  unpleasant  to  her,  as 
it  is  painful  to  myself. 

"I  suggest  nothing  to  your  better  judgment,  as  to  the  man- 
ner of  prosecuting  your  inquiries ;  but  only  say,  as  you  value 


IDA   NORMAN.  191 

my  peace  of  mind,  as  you  love  your  precious  sister  and  her 
happiness,  seek  diligently  for  the  lost  one,  the  beloved  even 
if  dishonored  parent  of  your  friend,  Louis." 

"  It  is  strange,  indeed,"  would  Landon  often  think,  when 
perusing,  and  reperusing  this  letter,  "  that  Louis  has  scarcely 
mentioned  Ida,  nor  even  suggested,  that  for  her  sake,  I  might 
feel  the  greater  interest  in  seeking  their  father.  But  what 
assurance  have  1,  that  Ida  Norman  thinks  of  me  with  any 
peculiar  regard  ?  Is  it  likely,  that,  with  her  lofty  feelings,  she 
would  regard  with  tenderness  the  poor  bashful  Willie  Lan- 
don, whom  she  once  pitied,  and  begged  her  mother  to  send 
to  a  charity-school  ?  Very  possibly,  nay,  probably,  Frank 
Selby  would  be  more  certain  of  her  favor,  than  his  father's 
late,  humble  clerk.  Women,  it  is  said,  love  the  free  and  gay- 
hearted,  and  I  have  been  the  reverse.  If  I  were  aught  to 
Ida  Norman,  would  not  her  intimate  friend,  Miss  Selby, 
know  her  sentiments  ?  and  if  so,  should  I  have  received  so 
many  tokens  of  particular  regard  from  that  friend, — private 
and  mysterious  gifts,  of  flowers  and  books,  sweet  smiles,  and 
encouraging  words  ?  Can  this  be  aught  but  a  proof  that 
Julia  Selby  suspects  and  views  with  pity  my  hopeless  at- 
tachment to  Ida  Norman,  and  would,  herself,  generously 
make  amends  for  her  indifference  ?" 

But  alas,  for  the  spirit  of  rivalry  which  sometimes  in- 
fluences the  female  heart!  Julia  Selby  did  suspect  Ida 
Norman's  attachment  to  William  Landon,  and  for  that  very 
reason,  was  instigated  by  vanity,  to  try  her  own  supe- 
rior powers  of  attraction.  The  usual  judgment  of  William 
Landon  failed  him,  when  attempting  to  account  for  the 
movements  of  the  female  heart,  and  that,  the  heart  of  a 
coquette. 


192  IDA    NORMAN. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    YOUNG    AMERICANS    IN    EUROPE. PARIS. 

THE  commercial  relations  of  the  firm  of  Selby  &  Co.  in 
Liverpool  and  London,  were  such  as  demanded  the  close 
attention  of  the  junior  partner.  He  devoted  himself  chiefly 
to  business,  while  in  those  cities,  and  notwithstanding  the 
unwillingness  of  Frank  Selby  to  be  useful,  managed  to  ob- 
tain some  assistance  from  him  in  the  way  of  examining 
bills,  copying  business-letters,  &c.  Frank  was,  at  times, 
very  impatient  to  be  exploring  the  "mysteries"  and  enjoy- 
ing the  amusements  of  these  cities,  but,  (as  he  acknow- 
ledged to  Landon)  he  began  to  feel  that  there  was,  on  the 
whole,  some  satisfaction  in  being  useful. 

Declining  the  proffered  civilities  of  merchants,  bankers, 
and  even  high  dignitaries,  the  junior  partner  of  the  firm  of 
Selby  &.  Co.,  having  satisfactorily  adjusted  all  doubtful  con- 
cerns, and  arranged  for  future  commercial  operations,  made 
rapid  journeys  to  Edinburgh  and  Dublin,  and  then  hastened 
to  Paris.  Here,  business  for  some  weeks,  engrossed  his 
attention ;  though  he  found  time,  as  he  had  done  in  the 
principal  cities  of  Great  Britain,  to  look  at  the  objects  of 
most  interest  to  travellers,  to  gratify  his  taste  by  a  survey 
of  the  works  of  art,  and  enrich  his  mind  by  observation  of 
manners  and  customs. 

Mr.  Selby,  having  no  confidence  in  Frank,  had  obtained 
his  promise  that  he  would  not  resort  to  any  place  of  amuse- 
ment, unaccompanied  by  Mr.  Landon,  and  had  enjoined  on 
the  latter  a  close  observation  of  the  movements  of  his  son. 
The  office  was  by  no  means  an  agreeable  one ;  but  as  Lan- 
don had  undertaken  it,  he  resolved,  faithfully,  to  discharge 
the  duties  it  involved.  While  at  Paris,  to  gratify  Frank,  he 


IDA   NORMAN.  193 

frequented  the  public  amusements  of  the  city  more  than  his 
own  taste  would  have  prompted, — and  having  sent  their 
letters  of  introduction,  they  were  soon  involved  in  a  round 
of  visiting  engagements. 

The  young  American  merchant,  a  partner  in  the  great 
house  of  Selby  St  Co.,  was  much  observed  and  admired. 
Ladies  of  high  fashion  distinguished  him  by  flattering  atten- 
tions. Many  a  Parisian  belle  playfully  challenged  him  to 
waltz,  or  dance  the  polka,  and  was  chagrined  at  his  de- 
clining the  honor. 

"Why  Monsieur,"  said  a  sweet  little  brunette,  "do  you 
not  waltz  ?  it  is  a  beautiful  dance,  and  so  graceful."  "Yes, 
it  is  very  graceful,"  was  the  reply  of  Landon,  "but  never- 
theless, I  do  not  like  it,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  my 
sister  thus  exhibit  herself  in  public."  "  Oh  you  barbarian ! 
you  North  American  savage !"  exclaimed  la  Parisienne, 
"you  must  indeed  stay  in  Paris  to  become  civilized." 

Frank  Selby  was  in  his  element;  his  waltzing,  even  in 
France,  was  acknowledged  perfect,  and  he  became  a  favorite 
in  the  saloons  of  Paris.  But  in  the  midst  of  some  half- 
dozen,  violent  flirtations,  the  junior  partner  announced  to 
him,  that  having  completed  his  business  affairs  in  Paris,  he 
proposed  leaving  for  Italy. 

"  Well,  you  can  go  without  me,"  said  Frank,  "  I  am  well 
contented  in  Paris, — a  fine  affair,  indeed,  just  as  I  am  be- 
ginning to  enjoy  myself,  and  create  a  sensation  among  Pari- 
sian belles,  to  be  hurried  off",  over  the  Alps,  carrying,  'at 
each  remove,  a  dragging  chain'  (Frank's  memory  was  not 
very  good  for  quotations).  Surely,  the  junior  partner 
would  not  be  so  unreasonable  towards  his  humble  depen- 
dent and  slave." 

"You  well  know,  Mr.  Frank  Selby,"  replied  Landon, 

"  that  the  office  imposed  on  me  by  your  father,  of  being 

your  banker  and  adviser,  was  unsought,  and  I  may  add, 

very  undesirable.    I  have  endeavoured  to  accommodate  my- 

17 


194  IDA    NORMAN. 

self  to  your  wishes,  as  far  as  possible ;  against  the  dictates 
of  my  own  judgment,  I  have  often  yielded  to  you ;  but  I 
can  remain  no  longer  in  Paris,  and  on  your  own  account,  I 
ought  not.  You  are,  even  now,  immersed  in  a  vortex  of 
opposing  engagements,  deceiving  with  attentions  and  pro- 
fessions, several  young  ladies,  all  of  whom  you  cannot  love, 
and  none  of  whom  do  you  know  well  enough  to  think  of 
seriously." 

"This  same  flirtation,  which  you,  my  wise  Mentor,  re- 
gard with  such  saintly  abhorrence,  is  the  very  life  and  zest 
of  society;  it  is  like  the  sparkling  and  effervescence  of 
champagne,  that  which  proves  its  worth." 

"But  when  the  sparkling  and  effervescence  are  gone," 
added  Landon, "  the  dregs  are  '  stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable.' " 
"  Then  I  am  to  infer,"  said  Frank,  rather  tartly,  "  that 
you  have  no  intention  of  leaving  me  here  with  a  quantity  of 
blank  checks  on  our  Parisian  banker,  to  be  filled  up  as  my 
wants  may  demand ;  now  this  is,  really,  what  ought  to  be 

done,  and  h°  my  father  was  not  a  mean,  niggardly  old " 

"Stop,  sir,  if  you  please,"  rejoined  Landon,  "I  cannot 
hear  a  son  speak  in  that  way  of  a  father,  and  one  so  worthy 
and  honorable  as  yours.     You  complain  of  your  father's 
want  of  confidence  in  your  judgment ;  permit  me  to  ask  you, 
plainly,  what  pains  you  have  ever  taken  to  gain  his  con- 
fidence ?     What  have  you  yet  done,  towards  establishing  for 
yourself  a  character,  which  should  entitle  you  to  respect?" 
"Your  questions,  Mr.    Junior-partner,    are,  undeniably, 
quite  plain  and  direct;  but  as  you  are  a  good-hearted  fellow, 
and  doubtless  think  this  kind  of  schooling  belongs  to  your 
office,  I  will  endeavour  to  keep  my  temper.     Indeed,  if  I 
should  shoot  you,  it  would  be  a  bad  affair^  for  I  have  not 
money  enough  at  my  command  to  give  you  a  decent  burial; 
and  I  know  of  no  provision  whatever,  by  which  I  should 
be  kept  from  starvation,  if  you  could  not  draw  the  means 
from  bank.     I  should  have  supposed  my  kind  and  'Ao/i- 


IDA    NORMAN.  195 

orable*  papa,  might  have  thought  what  a  condition  his  son 
would  be  left  in,  without  credit  for  a  dollar,  in  case  of  the 
sudden  sickness,  or  exit  of  the  junior  partner.  You  may 
call  this  state  of  things  honorable;  it  may  be  so  to  you,  but 
it  is  not  so  to  me,  nor  in  my  opinion,  (always  with  due 
deference  to  my  superiors,)  and  here  Frank  made  a  low 
obeisance,  '  to  my  honorable  father.1 " 

Landon  essayed  to  speak,  but  Frank  continued,  "you 
have  asked  me  some  serious  questions,  now  I  do  not  like 
to  be  serious  about  any  thing,  but  as  I  see  you  are  a  very 
matter-o>-fact  sort  of  a  fellow,  (excuse  me,  I  mean  gentle- 
man,) and  I  am  under  your  care,  I  must  do  what  you  bid ; 
so  I  will  try  to  keep  myself  serious,  long  enough  to  con- 
sider the  points  on  which  you  want  information.  You  ask 
what  pains  I  have  ever  taken  to  please  my  father,  and  to 
gain  his  confidence,  or  to  make  myself  respected  (very 
plain  questions  indeed  sir).  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  no 
pains-taking  propensities  at  all.  I  supposed  though,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  that  a  father  would  have  confidence  in  his 
son ;  and  that  a  rich  father  would  give  his  son  as  much 
money  as  he  wanted,  and  that  this  money  would  command 
all  the  respect  necessary  to  make  life  go  on  smoothly ; — 
but,  all  at  once,  after  having  had  my  way  until  I  am  old 
enough  to  be  my  own  master,  I  am  put  into  leading  strings, 
led  like  an  ape  through  Great  Britain,  suffered  to  dance  a 
little  while  in  Paris,  and  then  whisked  over  the  Alps,  as  my 
conductor  happens  to  fancy." 

"This  conversation  Mr.  Selby,"  said  Landon,  gravely, 
"is  very  absurd ; — any  thing,  and  every  thing,  may  be  turned 
into  ridicule.  I  am  some  years  older  than  you,  and  have 
been  trained  in  an  excellent  school,  such  as  the  sons  of 
rich  men  are  not  admitted  into,  and  therefore,  I  may  be 
able  to  give  you  advice." 

"  What  school  is  there  in  our  country,  that  the  rich  can- 
not have  access  to,  Mr.  Mentor." 


196  IDA    NORMAN. 

"  The  school  of  poverty,"  replied  Landon,  with  dignity, 
"  where  one  may  learn  how  to  respect  himself,  and  how  to 
gain  the  respect  of  others." 

"  But  you  have  been  glad  to  get  out  of  that  school ;  I 
suppose  you  have  no  particular  wish  to  get  back  into  it." 

u  No,  but  I  would  not  part  with  the  lessons  I  there  learned, 
for  all  the  wealth  of  Paris.  But  we  have  no  time  to  lose  in 
idle  talk,  we  have  many  arrangements  to  make  before  leav- 
ing, and  some  visits  of  ceremony  to  pay." 

"  And  so  my  Mentor  is  determined  to  take  me  away  from 
the  Calypsos  of  Paris,  and  break  their  little  hearts, — well, 
I'll  go  through  this  figure,  but  when  I  get  back  to  New 
York,  I'll  give  the  senior  partner  a  piece  of  my  mind,  and 
set  up  for  myself." 

"  You  seem  to  like  fancying  yourself  a  second  Telema- 
chus,  Frank,"  said  Landon,  smiling,  "  suppose  you  imitate 
that  young  man  in  striving  to  resist  temptation ;  and,  espe- 
cially, follow  his  example  of  respect  for  his  father." 

"Excellent!  my  prudent  father  is,  I  grant,  somewhat  of 
an  Ulysses: — well  I'll  be  Telemachus  in  search  of — not 
'his  father,' — for  mine  is  safe  and  sound  among  his  in- 
voices, bills  of  lading,  &c.,  in  his  counting-house :  but  I'll 
be  Telemachus  in  search  of  a  wife !  and  if  I  do  not  find 
one  equal  in  beauty  and  accomplishments  to  Ida  Norman, 
before  I  get  back  to  New  York,  (and  I  have  not  yet,)  why 
then,  I'll  settle  down,  a  steady,  married  man,  soon  after." 

Landon,  for  the  moment,  started  at  the  familiar  mention  of 
a  name,  which  was,  to  him,  so  sacred.  But  he  was  pleased 
that  Frank  made  no  serious  opposition,  as  he  had  feared  he 
might,  to  the  plan  of  their  leaving  Paris  somewhat  earlier 
than  they  had  intended.  He  was  desirous  of  going  to  Italy  as 
soon  as  possible,  to  commence  his  search  after  the  unfortu- 
nate Mr.  Norman.  He  had  received  repeated  letters  from 
Louis,  since  his  departure,  renewing  his  entreaties  to  that 
effect ; — and  his  own  interest  in  the  happiness  of  those  so 


IDA    NORMAN. 


197 


dear  to  him  as  were  the  children  of  that  ill-fated  man, 
prompted  him  to  a  speedy  undertaking  of  his  mission, 
though  with  little  hope  of  success ;  he  had,  moreover,  be- 
come extremely  desirous  to  return  to  his  native  land. 

Thoughts  of  Ida  Norman,  as  Landon  had  been  more  at 
leisure  to  think,  had  filled  his  mind  ;  and,  at  a  distance  from 
home  and  country,  he  had  fully  learned  the  state  of  his  own 
heart.  While  an  under-clerk  in  Mr.  Selby's  store,  he  had 
seldom  allowed  his  imagination  to  whisper  of  a  future  day 
in  which  he  might  presume  to  think  of  Ida  Norman.  After 
having  been  advanced  to  the  office  of  head-clerk,  he  had 
sometimes  dreamed  of  a  distant  future,  when  he  should  be 
admitted  as  a  partner  in  the  firm ;  and  then  the  thought  of 
another  connexion  had  beamed  upon  his  mind,  and  bright 
visions  of  Ida  Norman's  image  hovered  around  him. 

Often  had  he  purposed,  before  going  abroad,  to  speak  to 
Ida  of  the  place  she  held  in  his  affections;  but  the  early 
scenes  of  their  childhood  were  still  fresh  in  his  mind; 
the  disparity  which  then  existed  in  their  conditions  had 
made  so  deep  an  impression,  that  though  circumstances  had 
greatly  changed,  he  could  not  easily  overcome  the  reserve, 
that,  in  her  presence,  had  become  habitual. 

Julia  Selby  had  said  many  flattering  things  to  him.  She 
had  assured  him  she  should  be  anxious  for  his  return;  and 
expressed  in  a  tender  manner,  the  wish  to  be  remembered 
by  him  during  his  absence  ; — in  s^ort,  the  manner  of  Ida,  in 
late  years,  had  been  so  different,  so  cold  and  reserved,  in 
comparison,  that  the  conviction  forced  itself  upon  his  mind, 
that  Ida  Norman  was  indifferent  to  him,  while  self-love 
whispered  that  the  elegant  Julia  Selby  felt  for  him  "  some- 
thing, than  friendship,  dearer." 

Mr.  Selby  had  gone  so  far,  on  several  occasions,  as  to 
say  to  Landon,  that  he  should  prefer  for  Julia's  husband,  a 
man  who  had  risen  by  his  own  merits,  to  one  who  had  in- 
herited a  fortune,  without  habits  of  business.     It  is  not  in 
17* 


198  IDA   NORMAN. 

nature  that  a  young  man  in  Landon's  position,  should  not 
have  felt  flattered  by  such  demonstrations  of  regard.  Ida's 
own  reserve  had  been  one  cause  of  William  Landon's  failing 
to  express  for  her  his  attachment ;  but  it  had  also  strength- 
ened, and  rendered  deeper  that  regard,  and  he  found  that  ab- 
sence but  impressed  more  firmly  on  his  heart,  the  image  of 
Ida  Norman. 


CHAPTER  V. 

JOURNEY  TO  ITALY. FLORENCE. 

OUR  travellers  are  now  in  a  French  diligence  on  their 
way  to  Italy ;  and  Frank  Selby  is  in  a  better  humor  than 
might  have  been  supposed,  from  his  unwillingness  to  leave 
Paris. 

The  diligence  truly  deserves  its  name,  for,  on,  on,  it 
goes,  along  the  banks  of  the  Seme,  and  some  of  its  branches, 
for  many  miles;  and  then  through  a  mountainous  region  to 
Autun,  an  old  Roman  town ;  and  having  crossed  a  lofty 
ridge,  which  separates  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic  from  those 
which  flow  into  the  Mediterranean,  it  reaches  Chalons,  in 
the  pleasant  valley  of  the  toane. 

The  travellers  stop  at  the  beautiful  city  of  Lyons,  situated 
at  the  junction  of  the  Soane  with  the  Rhone.  Mr.  Landon 
wishes  to  visit  the  various  manufactories  of  silks,  velvets, 
ribbons,  &.C.,  and  to  give  orders  for  the  transmission,  to 
New  York,  to  the  house  of  Selby  &.  Co.,  a  large  quantity 
of  the  elegant  fabrics  of  this  city. 

Their  journey  resumed,  the  travellers  continue  their 
route,  through  Avignon  and  Genoa,  to  Florence.  As  the 
carriage  which  they  had  taken  at  Pisa,  passed  over  the 


IDA  NORMAN.  199 

swell  of  the  Appenines,  to  the  vale  of  the  Arno,  a  picturesque 
region  appeared  ;  at  first,  broken  and  rough,  then  spreading 
into  broad  and  fertile  plains,  luxuriant  with  vines  and  olives. 
But  the  miserable  condition  of  the  Tuscan  peasantry,  their 
want  of  comfortable  dwellings,  and  the  wretched  appearance 
of  their  villages,  presented  to  the  travellers  a  striking  con- 
trast with  the  cheerfulness  and  comfort,  to  be  seen  among 
the  laboring  classes  in  their  own  country. 

As  they  entered  Florence,  Landon,  deeply  sympathizing 
in  the  feelings  of  those,  who  were  dear  to  him,  was  agitated 
by  contending  emotions;  hope  that  the  important  object  of 
his  visit  to  that  city  might  be  accomplished,  and  fear  of 
disappointment;  the  latter  feeling  predominating,  when  he 
reflected  upon  the  length  of  time  which  had  elapsed  since 
any  intelligence  had  been  received  of  Mr.  Norman,  and  that, 
if  living,  he  doubtless  chose  to  remain  undiscovered.  He 
had  no  clue  to  guide  him  in  his  search,  nothing  but  the 
mere  fact,  that  Mr.  Norman  after  his  recall  as  ambassador, 
spent  some  time  at  Paris,  and  then  went  to  Florence;  where 
he  was  known  to  be  living  by  some  American  families, 
who  were  in  that  city  about  the  date  of  the  remittance  to 
Mr.  Delaplaine,  and  the  letter  to  Mr.  Ashburn.  For  years, 
nothing  had  been  heard  of  him ;  if  he  were  living,  would 
he  remain  thus  estranged  from  his  children  ?  The  thought 
was  unnatural;  and  the  more  Landon  reflected  on  this  cir- 
cumstance, the  more  he  became  convinced  that  there  was 
not  a  shadow  of  hope. 

Landon  had  not  deemed  it  proper  to  communicate  to  his 
light-hearted,  unreflecting  companion,  the  chief  object  of  his 
visit  to  Florence,  leaving  him  to  suppose  that  business 
alone  had  led  him  thither.  That  young  gentleman  was 
much  delighted  with  the  palace  of  a  hotel,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Arno,  where  they  found  themselves  furnished  with 
every  luxury  which  could  be  imagined. 

"The  Astor-house,"  said  Frank,  "is  no  touch  to  this." 


200  IDA    NORMAN. 

Spiral  stair-cases  of  marble  led  to  splendid  saloons,  suites 
of  apartments  which  opened  upon  terraces,  and  balconies 
filled  with  the  rarest  plants,  while  exquisite  paintings  orna- 
mented the  walls,  and  the  finest  of  stataary  filled  the  niches 
in  the  stair-cases,  and  adorned  the  spaces  between  the 
columns  of  the  fa$ades. 

"  This  will  do,"  said  Frank,  after  he  had  seen  his  trunks 
disposed  of,  and  had  put  on  his  latest  Parisian  costume, 
prepared  to  sally  forth  into  the  streets  for  an  observation; 
"  this  will  do,  and  now  if  the  junior  partner,  I  beg  pardon, 
ray  grave  Mentor,  will  but  please  to  stay  here  long  enough 
for  me  to  breathe,  I  shall  feel  that  he  has  made  some 
atonement,  for  so  unceremoniously  taking  me  away  from 
Paris." 

"  We  are  certainly  very  comfortable  here,"  said  Landon, 
"and  I  have  no  intention  of  leaving  immediately;  I  have  some 
business  which  may  detain  me  longer  than  I  could  wish ; — 
but  come,  let  us  take  a  stroll,  about  this  city  of  bridges, 
palaces,  and  churches." 

A  guide  conducts  them  to  an  eminence,  where  they  look 
on  Florence,  beautiful  and  bright,  reposing  in  a  valley ;  the 
Arno  winding  like  a  thread  of  silver  among  its  glittering 
domes  and  towers,  while  undulating  hills  circle  around,  as 
if  to  guard  the  treasure. 

"  This,"  said  Frank,  "  is  what  I  call  a  city  worth  seeing ; 
it  looks  as  if  folks  lived  there  without  business,  the  very 
idea  of  which,  I  hate." 

"Yes,"  replied  Landon,  "  it  is  beautiful ;  it  is  noble  in  its 
external  appearance ;  both  nature  and  art  have  made  it  so. 
But  its  inhabitants  are  slaves,  and  so  must  all  be  who  are 
too  indolent  to  use  the  faculties  which  God  has  given  them." 

"No  personal  allusions,  I  hope,"  said  Frank,  with  a 
shrug  and  a  laugh. 

Landon  was  too  much  engrossed  by  his  own  thoughts  to 
notice  the  application  which  his  companion  had  sportively, 
though  not  without  reason,  made  of  his  sentiments. 


IDA    NORMAN.  201 

After  some  days  spent  in  making  themselves  at  home  in 
Florence,  and  taking  a  coup-d'oeil  of  its  beauties,  Frank 
was  induced  to  join  his  companion  in  studying  the  Italian 
language,  under  a  master  who  came,  daily,  to  their  rooms, 
and  spent  some  hours  with  them ;  and  Landon  began  to 
encourage  himself  with  the  hope  that  young  Selby's  levity, 
and  dislike  to  serious  application,  might,  in  time,  give  place 
to  worthier  traits  of  character. 

Time  passed  rapidly  with  our  travellers  at  Florence,  in 
visiting  studios,  picture-galleries,  libraries,  palaces,  churches 
and  museums.  Frank  said  he  found  that  mode  of  study 
quite  agreeable,  but  books  he  never  could  endure.  He 
began  to  have  new  conceptions  of  the  power  of  the  fine  arts 
over  the  mind,  and  of  the  genius  displayed  in  the  works  of 
the  great  original  masters,  in  the  sister  arts  of  painting  and 
sculpture. 

To  the  mind  of  Landon,  a  new  field  of  imagination  was 
here  opened ;  what  seemed  so  natural,  it  appeared  easy  to 
execute;  and  he  was,  for  the  moment,  almost  ready  to 
abandon  the  interests  of  the  house  of  Selby  &,  Co.,  and 
even  the  thoughts  of  Ida  Norman,  to  become  a  painter. 
Lost  in  admiration  of  the  works  of  Raphael,  Michael  An- 
gelo  and  Corregio,  he,  for  a  time,  gave  himself  up  to  the 
new  enthusiasm  which  had  seized  him; — but  the  recollec- 
tion of  living  beauty,  from  the  hand  of  the  Great  Author  of 
genius  and  beauty,  broke  in  upon  his  dream,  and  impelled 
his  thoughts  to  wander  from  the  dry  dead  canvass,  and  the 
cold  inert  marble,  across  the  world  of  waters,  to  Ida  Nor- 
man, and  here,  as  the  dove  returning  to  the  ark,  they  found 
rest  and  peace. 

Landon,  from  the  first  day  of  his  arrival  at  Florence, 
began  to  search  among  all  the  Americans  then  in  the  city, 
for  some  trace  of  Mr.  Norman.  But,  of  the  few  Americans 
he  could  find,  none  had  resided  long  in  Florence,  and  none 
had  any  knowledge  of  the  person  whom  he  sought;  it  there- 


202  IDA    NORMAN. 

fore  followed,  that  if  not  dead,  he  had  either  left  the  city,  or 
was  living  in  obscurity.  Yet  Landon  still  lingered  at  Flo- 
rence, he  scarcely  knew  why,  for  what  had  he  to  hope,  or 
expect?  He  could  do  no  more  than  he  had  already  done, 
to  inquire,  and  to  follow  up  every  incident  which  promised 
the  least  information. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

VISIT  TO  VALAMBROSA. UNEXPECTED   DISCOVERY. INTER- 
VIEW  BETWEEN    MR.  NORMAN    AND    WILLIAM    LANDOX. 

To  prolong  the  time,  to  engage  the  attention  of  Frank 
Selby,and  to  try  every  possible  chance  of  finding  out  some- 
tiling  connected  with  the  fate  of  Mr.  Norman,  Landon  had 
visited  every  place  of  curiosity  and  interest,  and  determined 
to  leave  nothing  undone,  he  had  even  privately  explored 
the  dwellings  of  poverty,  and  the  haunts  of  infamy. 

One  spot  in  the  environs  of  Florence  they  had  not  yet 
seen.  Valambrosa,  a  favorite  with  the  poets, — and  by  some 
supposed  to  be  the  original,  from  which,  Milton's  description 
of  Paradise,  was  copied.  Hither  the  two  young  Americans 
bent  their  way,  on  a  bright  morning  in  the  beginning  of 
autumn.  Their  path  was  along  the  banks  of  the  Arno,  until 
they  arrived  at  a  spot  too  rugged  to  admit  a  carriage.  Here 
the  Appenines  send  down  to  the  Arno,  from  their  steep  de- 
clivities, a  rapid  and  sparkling  stream,  which  amidst,  "These 
awful  solitudes,  and  gloomy  shades,"  forms  dashing  cas- 
cades, whose  sad  music  accords  with  the  wild  and  pic- 
turesque scene. 

An  ancient  convent,  and  a  wild  hermitage,  lie  here  embow- 
ered amidst  the  forest  trees  and  tangled  furze,  while  at  a 


IDA    NORMAN.  203 

little  distance,  on  a  towering  eminence,  are  to  be  seen  the 
ruins  of  an  old  chateau. 

The  travellers  were  kindly  received  by  the  fraternity  at 
the  convent,  who  shewed  them  their  famous  gallery  of  old 
pictures,  and  library  of  ancient  books.  The  superior,  a 
learned  man,  with  much  dignity  and  suavity  of  manners, 
observing  that  the  strangers  spoke  the  English  language, 
directed  them  to  the  department  of  the  library,  where  Eng- 
lish books  were  kept.  Landon,  at  first,  glanced  at  them 
with  idle  curiosity;  but  the  titles  "History  of  the  Republic 
of  America,"  "History  of  New  York,"  "Life  of  Washing- 
ton," &c.  arrested  his  attention,  and  he  expressed  his  sur- 
prise and  gratification,  at  seeing  in  that  remote  spot,  those 
mementos  of  his  country. 

"These  books"  said  the  superior,  "were  presented  to 
our  convent  by  an  American,  who  leads  a  life  of  great 
seclusion,  in  a  hermitage  near  us." 

Landon's  attention  was  roused,  but  he  concealed  his  emo- 
tion, and  the  superior  resumed, — "  He  is  a  man  of  great 
learning,  and  knowledge  of  the  world :  when  animated, 
as  he  sometimes  becomes  when  conversing  upon  subjects 
connected  with  the  history  and  laws  of  nations,  the  consti- 
tution of  the  human  mind,  and  the  principles  of  moral 
and  religious  science,  he  is  remarkably  eloquent,  even 
though  speaking  in  a  foreign  language.  Of  course,"  con- 
tinued the  superior,  observing  that  Landon  listened  with 
intense  interest,  "  as  he  is  a  Protestant,  we  do  not  agree  on 
religious  subjects,  in  many  respects,  but  if  a  Protestant  can 
be  saved,  I' should  have  hope  for  him.  There  is,  I  am  con- 
vinced, something  very  mysterious  connected  with  the 
history  of  this  individual ;  at  times,  he  is  gloomy,  and  ab- 
stracted, he  seldom  leaves  his  retreat,  except  to  come  here 
for  a  book,  or  to  seek  some  necessary  of  life." 

"What,"  said  Landon,  with  almost  breathless  anxiety. 
"  is  the  name  of  this  singular  individual  ?" 


204  IDA    NORMAN. 

"  As  he  has  never  chosen  to  give  his  name,"  replied  the 
superior,  "he  is  called  'the  hermit  of  Valambrosa,'  but 
in  the  books  he  has  presented  our  convent,  is  the  name  of 
NORMAN." 

For  a  moment,  Landon  was  compelled  to  lean  against  a 
pedestal  for  support;  but  recovering  himself,  he  said,  "Tour 
account  of  this  man  interests  me  much,  he  is  doubtless  a 
countryman  of  mine.  I  would  like  to  know  something  of 
his  history.  Does  he  admit  strangers?" 

The  superior  shook  his  head ;  "  I  can  give  you  little  en- 
couragement that  he  would  see  you.     I  have  never  known 
him  to  admit  any  one.     But  I  will  send  a  guide  to  conduct 
.you  to  his  hermitage;  it  is  beneath  yonder  overhanging 
cliff." 

Landon  returned  to  the  place  where  he  had  left  Frank 
Selby,  whom  he  found  enjoying  himself  in  examining  the 
curiosities  of  the  convent,  and  especially  pleased  with  the 
ffood  cheer  of  the  brotherhood.  In  few  words,  Landon  ex- 

O  • 

plained  that  he  wished  to  visit  a  locality  at  a  little  distance, 
and  would  not  trouble  Frank  to  go,  as  the  path  was  one  of 
some  difficulty ; — his  companion  assured  him,  that  he  was 
little  disposed  to  take  trouble  to  see  rocks  and  waterfalls. 

The  guide  could  scarcely  keep  pace  with  Landon,  so  ra- 
pidly he  strode  over  the  precipitous  rocks,  and  through  the 
dark  ravines  which  interposed  between  the  convent  and  the 
cliff; — they  were  soon  at  the  door  of  the  Hermitage.  The 
guide  went  first,  and  asked  admittance  for  a  stranger. 

"  Tell  him,"  said  a  deep  toned  voice,  within,  "  that  the 
occupant  of  this  secluded  dwelling  sees  no  strangers." 

"Landon  took  from  his  pocket  a  blank  card,  which  he 
handed  to  the  guide,  after  he  had  written,  "  A  stranger  from 
America  wishes  to  see  Mr.  Norman,  that  he  may  bear  intel- 
ligence to  him,  of  his  children." 

The  door  was  cautiously  opened;  and  Landon  found  him- 
self in  the  presence  of — Mr.  NORMAN.  Notwithstanding  the 


IDA    NORMAN.  205 

change  which  time,  his  hermit's  costume,  and  the  war  of 
passions  had  produced  in  his  appearance,  Landon  recognized 
at  the  first  glance,  the  stately  form  and  eagle  eye,  which 
once  marked  the  distinguished  man. 

Motioning  the  guide  to  depart,  Mr.  Norman  closed  the 
door,  and  then,  regarding  Landon  with  a  deep  and  searching 
look, 

"Young  man,"  said  he,  "you  say  you  bear  intelligence 
of  my  children ; — they  are  words  which  sound  strange  to  my 
ears — my  children !  Alas !  I  have  little  right  to  claim  such 
affinities.  I  deemed  my  heart  was  dead  to  all  earthly  affec- 
tions, but  your  words  have  awakened  me,  as  from  a  trance 
of  years.  What  can  you  tell  of  those  forsaken  children  ?  are 
they  beggars  in  the  streets  of  the  city ;  or  inmates  of  its 
haunts  of  vice  ?  Tell  me  all — tell  me  the  worst — for  I  am 
inured  to  disgrace  and  suffering.  Nothing  you  can  say  will 
be  worse  than  I  deserve,  worse  than  I  ought  to  expect." 

Deeply  affected,  Landon  was,  for  a  time,  unable  to  speak ; 
Mr.  Norman  regarding  him  with  a  look  in  which  tenderness 
and  gratitude  were  mingled,  and  as  if  to  give  him  courage  for 
his  unwelcome  task,  said,  "Do  not  distress  yourself — I 
will  wait  quietly  for  your  intelligence.  And  fear  not  the  en- 
durance of  one,  who  has  tasted  too  deeply  of  the  dregs  of 
misfortune,  to  shrink  at  any  potion,  however  bitter." 

"Mr.  Norman,"  said  Landon,  drawing  near  to  him,  and 
taking  his  hand,  "  I  bring  you  no  sad  intelligence. — Tour 
son  is  known  and  honored  among  the  first  men  of  our  coun- 
try— and  your  daughter,  your  lovely  daughter,  is  all  that  a 
parent  could  ask — to  know  that  their  father  is  living,  that 
they  may  be  permitted  again  to  behold  him,  is  all  that  is 
wanting  to  their  earthly  happiness." 

Mr.  Norman  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  burying  his  face  in 
his  hands,  remained,  for  some  time,  fixed  and  motionless. 
Gradually,  his  muscles  relaxed;  his  hands  fell;  and  his  lips 
moved,  as  if  in  grateful  thanksgiving. 
18 


206  IDA    NORMAN. 

Rising  from  his  kneeling  posture,  and  laying  his  hand 
upon  Landon's  shoulder,  he  said,  "You  are,  indeed,  a  min- 
ister of  consolation  to  an  unfortunate  man.  You  have 
brought  me  tidings  of  good,  such  as  I  never*  expected  to 
hear ;  for  I  had  given  up  all  hopes  of  any  good  to  me  or 
mine  in  this  life.  My  children  are  virtuous ! — God  be  praised! 
But  what  must  that  noble  son,  and  lovely  daughter  think  of 
the  father  who  abandoned  them  to  the  care  of  strangers  ? 
Can  they  but  despise  and  hate,  one  who  has  been  thus  re- 
creant to  his  duties  ?" 

This  was  a  question  which  Landon,  at  first,  found  a  diffi- 
culty in  answering,  but  collecting  himself  he  said,  "They 
have  believed  that  their  father,  if  living,  could  give  some 
satisfactory  explanation  of  past  circumstances ; — if  not,  they 
only  ask  that  he  would  now  return,  and  suffer  them  to 
perform  their  filial  duties." 

"  Ah  my  children !"  apostrophised  Mr.  Norman,  "  you  re- 
concile me  to  a  world  which  I  have  found  false  and  sel- 
fish !  your  confidence  and  filial  love  are  beyond  praise !" 
And  then  addressing  Landon,  he  said,  "  but  there  are  expla- 
nations and  extenuating  circumstances,  which  may  place  my 
conduct  in  a  light  very  different  from  that,  in  which  the  world 
have  viewed  it." 

Landon  then  modestly,  but  earnestly,  urged  upon  Mr. 
Norman  the  duty  of  returning  to  his  country,  and  his 
children. 

After  a  pause,  during  which  his  soul  seemed  struggling 
with  conflicting  feelings,  Mr.  Norman  exclaimed,  "yes,  I 
owe  it  to  myself,  and  family,  to  make  the  best  vindication  I 
can  of  my  conduct;  and  since  Providence  leads  the  way,  I 
will  leave  this  lone  hermitage,  where  I  had  thought  to  spend, 

'Quiet  though  sad,  the  remnant  of  my  days.' 

"  I  will  again  appear  on  the  theatre  of  life,  not  to  take  part 
in  its  harassing  competitions,  nor  to  seek  popular  favor,  but 


IDA    NORMAN.  207 

to  atone  for  past  errors,  by  walking  humbly  before  God  and 
man,  as  one  who  must  soon  render  an  account  of  himself 
before  the  tribunal  of  Heaven.'1 

Mr.  Norman,  on  learning  the  name  of  his  unexpected 
visitor,  said  with  feeling,  "Mr.  Landon,  I  knew  your  pa- 
rents; few  in  this  sinful  world  are  as  pure  and  uncorrupt,as 
was  your  excellent  father.  Your  mother,  I  knew  as  a  lovely 
and  elegant  young  lady  of  high  moral  worth ;  I  lost  sight 
of  her  about  the  time  of  your  father's  death,  though  I  re- 
collect hearing  that  she  was  living  very  secluded ;  Mrs.  Nor- 
man, T  believe,  sometimes  saw  her.  I  see  their  likeness 
in  their  son.  Your  parentage  entitles  you  to  my  confi- 
dence ;  besides,  you  can  have  no  motive  in  deceiving  me." 

Landon  then  informed  Mr.  Norman  that  he  had  among  his 
papers  in  Florence,  a  letter  of  his  own  written  to  Mr.  Ash- 
burn,  which  Louis  had  given  him  to  aid  in  his  search  by  a 
knowledge  of  his  hand-writing ;  and  that  so  strong  had  been 
the  belief  of  his  son  that  he  would  find  him,  that  he  had  sent 
by  him,  a  letter  of  introduction.  Landon  then  mentioned, 
that  his  travelling  companion,  young  Mr.  Selby,  was  at  the 
convent;  and  he  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  Mr.  Nor- 
man to  engage  to  join  them  the  next  day,  at  their  hotel  in 
Florence,  with  the  view  of  going  to  Marseilles  and  em- 
barking with  them  for  America,  in  the  first  vessel  which 
should  leave  that  port. 

Mr.  Norman  gratefully,  but  with  dignity,  accepted  a  check 
from  Landon,  on  his  banker  at  Florence,  for  five  hundred 
pounds ; — calmly  observing  "  I  have  large  claims  in  New 
York  which  ought  to  be  searched  into.  Once  landed  upon 
the  shores  of  my  country,  I  shall  engage  in  the  adjustment 
of  my  public  accounts,  and  I  have  no  fears  for  the  ultimate 
results  of  an  investigation.  And  for  my  children's  sake,  I 
will  prosecute  some  just  claims,  which  1  have,  wrongfully, 
suffered  to  lie  dormant." 

Mr.  Norman  at  parting,  placed  in  the  hand  of  Landon  a 


203  IDA    NORMAN. 

package  which  he  took  from  a  large  travelling-trunk  stand- 
ing in  his  rude  apartment.  These  papers,  said  he,  I  give 
you  to  read ;  they  were  written  with  the  vague  idea  that 
they  might,  one  day,  fall  into  the  hands  of  my  children ; — 
and  as  an  arraignment  of  myself,  before  the  tribunal  of  my 
own  conscience,  for  the  course  of  conduct  I  have  pursued  ; 
a  course,  which  can  have  caused  to  none,  greater  surprise 
than  it  has  to  myself;  so  true  it  is  that  man  is  often  led  on 
to  do  the  things  he  would  not;  like  the  king  of  Israel,  who 
asked,  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  should  do  thus  ?" 

Landon,  eagerly,  took  the  package ;  and  respectfully,  and 
tenderly,  parted  with  the  father  of  Ida,  until  the  following 
day. 

He  found  Frank  Selby  amidst  the  monks  of  the  convent, 
enjoying  their  comforts,  and  amused  with  their  mirth  and 
jollity.  "1  do  not  know,"  said  he  to  Landon,  "what  great 
amusement  you  could  find  in  looking  off  from  that  cliff  for 
two  or  three  hours ;  but  every  one  to  his  taste ;  I  plead 
guilty  to  a  preference  for  ease  and  comfort,  to  the  contem- 
plation of  naked  rocks  and  water-falls." 

The  travellers  after  thanking  their  kind  entertainers,  took 
leave ;  and  Frank  soon  felicitated  himself  on  being  again  in 
his  comfortable  quarters,  at  their  palace  hotel. 


IDA    KOB.MAN.  209 

CHAPTER    VII. 

MR.  NORMAN'S  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY. 

LANDON  hastened  to  the  retirement  of  his  own  apartment, 
anxious  to  peruse  the  papers  which  were  to  throw  light  on 
the  singular  history  of  one,  to  whom  in  his  childhood  he 
had  looked  up  with  awe;  and  whose  mysterious  fate  had 
caused  so  much  wonder  and  speculation.  Sympathizing 
with  those  who  were  dear  to  him,  he  earnestly  hoped  that 
the  history  might  prove,  a  vindication  of  Mr.  Norman's 
conduct;  or,  at  least,  so  far  show  his  penitence  for  the  past, 
as  would  impart  consolation  to  the  hearts  of  his  children. 
Unfolding  the  manuscript,  Landon.  with  deep  and  anxious 
interest,  and  some  degree  of  curiosity,  read  : 

"In  these  deep,  and  gloomy  solitudes,  my  soul  retires 
within  itself,  and  asks  an  explanation  of  the  past.  Here, 
with  no  human  eye  turned  upon  me,  in  love,  pity  or  con- 
tempt; with  nought  to  disturb  the  awful  calmness  of  the 
repose  I  have  sought  for  my  soul's  health ;  I  deliberately 
engage  in  the  work  of  self-examination ;  of  self-accusation, 
where  conscience  charges  home  my  guilt;  and  of  self-justi- 
fication, where  I  have  but  seemed  to  err.  With  no  motive 
for  self-deception,  I  would  lift  the  veil  which  too  often 
hides  the  human  heart  from  its  own  observation,  and,  fear- 
fully, see  mine  as  it  is,  or  rather  as  it  has  been,  for  it  is 
with  the  past  that  I  would  hold  converse. 

"  The  hermit  of  Valambrosa,  cool  and  collected  in  all  his 
faculties,  subdued  in  all  that  relates  to  human  life  and  its 
interests,  would  inquire  respecting  a  man,  once  moving 
among  men,  acting  an  important  part  on  the  stage  of  life, 
and  influencing  the  destinies  of  others  by  his  will,  himself 
moved  by  ungovernable  passions. 
18* 


210  IDA    NORMAN. 

"  This  man  was  once  a  little  child,  and  his  mother  pressed 
him  to  her  bosom  in  fond  endearment ;  but  that  guardian 
angel  translated  to  a  purer  sphere,  was  not  permitted  to 
watch  over,  and  guard  from  evil,  the  son  of  her  love. 

"  The  child  grew  in  years,  and  the  evil  passions  of  his 
nature  strengthened,  with  his  strength.  Every  attention  was 
paid  to  the  development  of  his  intellect;  but  little  to  the 
improvement  of  his  heart,  or  the  government  of  his  passions. 
His  father,  absorbed  in  schemes  of  business,  and  worldly 
aggrandizement,  looked  not  upon  his  son's  inner  life;  but 
was  satisfied  with  knowing  that  he  distinguished  himself  in 
scholarship,  that  he  possessed  the  gift  of  eloquence,  and 
ability  to  call  up  thoughts  from  the  '  vasty  deep.' 

"'These  qualities,'  would  he  say,  'will,  one  day,  make 
you  a  man,  among  men.  Press  onward  in  the  course  of 
ambition;  study  to  gain  power  over  the  minds  of  men;  then 
will  you  become  great,  and  your  lather's  name  will  be 
honored  in  his  son.'  That  youth  needed  no  such  lesson ; 
for  his  soul  was  burning  with  desire  to  distinguish  himself, 
to  be  first,  and  greatest. 

"1  see  another  picture;  the  boy  has  become  a  man,  and 
ambition  has  yielded  its  sway  to  a  gentler  passion.  His 
heart,  so  long  dormant  in  its  affections,  is  awakened  to  new 
and  delightful  emotions ; — for  a  time,  he  revels  in  the  fairy 
regions  of  fancy,  and  in  the  romance  of  'love's  young 
dream,'  his  aspirations  for  power  over  the  wills  of  men,  are 
quenched. 

"  In  an  evil  hour,  he  is  overcome  by  temptation  to  do  a 
deed  which  the  laws  of  the  land  call,  crime.  His  father, 
hitherto  indulgent  in  granting  supplies  of  money,  had  refused 
farther  aid.  'Depend  on  your  own  efforts,'  he  said,  'you 
have  now  a  profession,  you  are  now  to  begin  to  make  men 
subservient  to  you;  while  you  depend  on  me,  you  will 
never  exert  your  powers  of  intellect;  I  have  waited  long 
for  the  fruits  of  your  education  and  superior  advantages; 


IDA    NORMAN.  211 

the  time  has  arrived  when  I  should  see  them,  at  least  in 
your  ability  to  supply  your  own  wants.' 

"A  debt  was  pending  over  the  young  man ;  he  had  no 
means  of  discharging  it,  and  he  gave  a  bank  check  in  his 
father's  name;  the  crime  was  forgery,  a  state's  prison 
offence.  His  father,  seeing  his  own  error  but  too  late, 
shielded  his  son  from  the  penalties  of  the  law,  and  sought 
to  hide  his  guilt ;  but  it  became  known  to  the  father  of  her 
whom  the  young  man  loved,  and  she  spurned  him  from  her 
presence,  as  one  abandoned  to  infamy.  She  doubtless,  acted 
wisely ;  he  whose  principles  fail  in  the  hour  of  temptation, 
cannot  be  trusted. 

"  The  Hermit  of  Valambrosa  here  pauses ; — -he  finds  him- 
self becoming  too  deeply  interested  in  the  life  and  fortune 
of  the  subject  of  his  memoirs.  But  he  has  promised  to  be 
impartial ;  to  unveil  the  past  in  its  true  lineaments ;  and,  with 
renewed  resolution,  he  proceeds. 

"  Livingston  Norman  was  discarded  by  one  who  possessed 
an  all-controlling  influence  over  his  mind.  Might  she  not 
have  led  him,  by  her  example,  into  paths  of  truth  and 
honesty?  Alas!  with  principles  too  weak  to  withstand 
temptation,  what  could  she  have  expected  for  the  future  ? 
besides,  she  could  not  love  one  who  had  forfeited  her  re- 
spect. Stung  with  the  sense  of  disgrace ;  the  young  man 
resolved  that  his  course  in  life  should,  at  all  hazards,  be 
distinguished  and  brilliant.  He  sought  to  find,  among  the 
wealthiest  of  the  land,  an  accomplished  and  beautiful  wife. 
Eliza  Tudor  was  addressed  ;  and  flattered  by  the  attentions 
of  one  already  distinguished  in  public  life,  as  well  as  in  his 
profession ;  and  who  was  welcomed,  when  he  deigned  to 
appear  in  the  saloons  of  fashion,  as  '  a  bright,  particular 
star,'  the  indulged  child  of  affluence  accepted  the  hand  of  a 
man  to  whose  character  and  principles  she  was  a  stranger. 

"  The  marriage  was  unfortunate  for  both ;  each,  with  a 
different  companion,  might  have  become  very  different  from 


212  IDA    NORMAN. 

what  circumstances  now  rendered  them.  The  wife  was 
proud  of  her  husband's  talents,  and  vain  of  the  honor  he 
received;  but  she  had  not  strength  of  mind  to  influence  his 
affections,  or  direct  his  principles ;  nor  did  she  feel  for  him 
that  tenderness,  or  warmth  of  affection,  which,  even  con- 
nected with  feeble  intellect,  has  power  to  melt  and  subdue 
an  obdurate  and  proud  spirit. 

"The  husband  looked  upon  his  wife,  as  a  weak  woman, 
who  could  be  satisfied  with  empty  honors,  and  dazzled  with 
the  false  glare  of  a  meretricious  greatness ;  and  he  sought 
not,  as  he  should  have  done,  to  exert  the  influence  of  his 
stronger  mind  to  improve  the  understanding  of  her,  whom, 
as  his  wife,  and  the  mother  of  his  children,  he  should  have 
i  loved,  honored  and  cherished.' 

"  Thus  he  failed  in  the  most  important  duty  of  life,  and 
rendered  by  his  own  neglect,  that  home  which  should  have 
been  the  abode  of  confidence  and  love,  cold  and  comfort- 
less. He  was  enriched  by  the  fortune  of  his  wife,  and 
aided  by  it  to  mount  the  ladder  of  political  distinction  and 
to  run  that  career  of  'vaulting  ambition'  which,  pestilential 
as  the  Sirocco,  has  a  baneful  influence  over  all  the  kind  and 
tender  charities  of  life. 

"Unhappy  the  children  nurtured  in  the  chilling  atmos- 
phere of  conjugal  indifference,  or  the  bitter  blasts  of  con- 
jugal discord!  How  dare  a  man  neglecting  domestic  ties 
and  duties,  call  himself  a  patriot;  talk  eloquently,  and  with 
pathos,  of  his  country's  welfare,  while  his  home  is  made 
miserable  by  his  alienation  from  its  claims  and  interests ! 

"  But  the  Hermit  of  Valambrosa  has  promised  to  be  just  to 
the  character  of  Livingston  Norman;  and  justice  demands 
that  it  be  confessed,  his  path  was  a  diflicult  one ;  that  his 
wife,  on  her  part,  had  no  just  appreciation  of  her  own  du- 
ties in  her  domestic  relations ;  and  that,  even  had  he  sought 
to  elevate  her  character,  his  efforts  might  have  been  fruit- 
less. Her  defects  were,  doubtless,  chiefly  the  result  of  a 


IDA    NORMAN.  213 

superficial  and  worldly  education ;  but  such  as  they  were, 
they  appeared  radical,  and  to  diffuse  their  influence  through- 
out her  entire  character.  In  contrast  with  the  noble  quali- 
ties of  the  high-souled  Amelia  Walsingham,  the  heroine  of 
his  young  days,  her  littleness  was  but  the  more  strikingly 
apparent. 

''Livingston  Norman,  finding  the  expense  of  his  political 
honors,  and  the  extravagance  of  his  wife,  had  exhausted 
their  fortune,  was  led  to  appropriate  to  his  use,  some  funds 
belonging  to  the  government  under  which,  he  held  a  lucrative 
office.  He  intended,  merely  to  borrow  from  the  means  he 
held  in  his  hands ;  and  he  believed,  too,  that  he  had  ne- 
glected to  make  proper  charges  which  would  have  covered 
all  he  thus  borrowed ;  but  it  was  a  crooked  and  dangerous 
course.  At  this  time  he  was  offered  a  foreign  embassy;  and 
with  too  little  moral  courage  to  look  into  his  business 
affairs  and  meet  the  truth,  he  departed  from  his  native  coun- 
try, leaving  a  noble  boy,  his  only  son,  and  a  bright  and 
lovely  daughter,  to  suffer  evils  which  he  felt  himself  unable 
to  face — shame  on  the  dastard  spirit  of  such  a  father ! 

"  Hermit  of  Valambrosa,  thou  art  too  severe ;  Livingston 
Norman  intended  not  that  disgrace  should  fall  upon  his 
children ;  he  hoped,  nay  he  believed,  that  in  some  unexpect- 
ed manner,  from  some  unknown  source,  his  fortunes  might 
be  retrieved.  He  had  always  been  a  favorite  of  fortune,  and 
he  trusted  that  the  star  of  his  destiny  would  continue  to  be 
in  the  ascendant.  He  had  claims  to  a  large  amount  of 
property,  which  might  become  very  valuable  ;  law  suits  were 
pending  which  might  be  decided  in  his  favor ;  golden  showers 
might  descend  upon  him ;  and  he  threw  his  reputation  upon 
the  chances. 

"  He  intended  not  to  abandon  his  beloved  children ;  for 
dear  they  were  to  his  heart,  amidst  all  the  turmoils  of  party 
strife  and  the  intrigues  of  political  management. 

"Louis!  dear  Louis!  thy  father,  after  a  lapse  of  so  many 


214  IDA    NORMAN. 

years,  sees  thee  before  him.  Generous  and  warm  hearted 
boy,  who,  sometimes  nobly  dared  to  suggest  to  that  father 
that  home  was  not  what  it  should  be !  that  his  mother  was 
sad  and  lonely  in  the  midst  of  the  luxury  of  her  boudoir, 
and  the  splendor  of  her  saloons !  Does  that  boy  yet  live  ? 
and  Ida,  the  sweet  and  darling  little  cherub !  Where  are 
they  ?  What  is  their  lot  in  this  world  of  sorrow  ?  Do  they 
ever  think  of  their  father  ? 

"  But  the  Hermit  is  not  a  father, — he  is  cut  off  from  the 
sympathies  of  home  and  kindred, — he  has  drained  the  cup 
of  human  life  to  its  bitterest  dregs ;  and  he  would  remain  a 
stranger  to  mankind,  the  few  and  evil  days  of  his  weary 
pilgrimage.  But  let  him  finish  his  sad  tale,  and  then  seek 
forever  to  close  his  mind  to  past  remembrances,  which  like 
spectres  hover  round  him ;  peopling  these  solitudes  with 
fantastic  imagery,  and  mingling  together  in  groups,  varied 
and  contrasting  events  and  characters. 

"At  the  Court  of a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of 

Livingston  Norman  ;  removed  from  the  excitement  of  politics 
and  professional  business,  his  active  mind  sought  amusement 
amidst  the  gay  scenes  of  a  European  court, — he  drank  of 
the  cup  of  pleasure ;  and  intoxicated,  he  drank  again. 

uThe  health  and  spirits  of  his  wife,  alas!  not  cherished 
as  she  should  have  been,  sank ;  and  she  died,  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land ;  her  husband,  when  too  late,  saw  that  he  had 
neglected  her,  and  bitterly  did  he  accuse  himself,  for  his 
insensibility  to  her  sufferings.  If  Eliza  Norman  had  many 
faults,  and  many  weaknesses,  she  was  virtuous ;  she  had  no 
conception  of  a  state  of  society  which  allows  a  wife,  without 
loss  of  character  and  standing,  to  attach  to  herself  professed 
admirers ;  and  which  permits  a  husband,  without  censure,  to 
devote  himself  as  a  lover,  to  any  other  woman  than  her  to 
whom  his  faith  has  been  pledged.  Though  their  married 
life  had  hitherto  been  one  of  indifierenee,  it  had  not  been 
embittered  by  jealousy. 


IDA    NORM  AN.  215 

"  Eliza  Norman,  proud  of  the  popularity  and  influence  of 
her  husband,  (which  she  doubtless,  with  overweening  pride, 
greatly  exaggerated  in  her  own  imagination,)  was  always 
ready  credulously  to  believe  that  he  was  occupied  with 
business  affairs,  when  abroad.  She  entertained  too  high  an 
opinion  of  herself,  readily  to  suppose  it  possible  for  any 
woman  to  gain  a  greater  influence  over  the  mind  of  her  hus- 
band than  she  possessed.  But  the  truth  suddenly  flashed 
upon  her,  and  she  sank  beneath  the  shock. 

"The  Hermit  shrinks  from  the  avowal  which  must  follow; 
he  would  fain  forbear  to  mention  a  name  which  he  now 
abhors.  But  let  this  confession  prove  his  penitence,  and  may 
this  penance  voluntarily  inflicted,  be  favorably  regarded  by 
the  '  searcher  of  hearts,'  the  final  '  Judge  of  all  men.' 

"At  a.  fete  champetre^  given  by  one  of  the  royal  princes, 
the  American  ambassador  saw  Adele  de  Villette,  who  as  the 
friend  and  companion  of  a  lady  of  quality,  had  gained  en- 
trance into  circles  to  which  she  could  not,  otherwise,  have 
aspired.  How  shall  I  describe  that  gifted,  insidious  and  un- 
principled woman !  but  let  me  speak  of  her  as  she  first  ap- 
peared to  him,  who,  with  all  his  boasted  penetration  and 
skill  in  finesse,  became  entangled  in  her  toils. 

"  Festivity  was  at  its  height  among  the  gay  throngs  in  the 
saloons ;  but  solitary  and  sad,  he  of  whom  I  write,  that  for- 
mer self,  whom  I  would  gladly  consider  as  separate  from  my 
personal  identity,  was  leaning  against  a  marble  column  in  a 
conservatory  filled  with  the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  flow- 
ers, whose  delicious  fragrance  floating  on  the  air,  seemed  to 
blend  with  melting  strains  of  music  from  the  saloons,  and 
the  warbling  of  birds  whose  golden  cages  glittered  among 
glowing  petals  and  luxuriant  foliage. 

"An  open  casement  admitted  the  beams  of  the  full  moon, 
which  bathed  the  scene  in  a  flood  of  liquid,  but  softened 
light.  Here,  and  there,  a  voluptuous  statue  of  exquisite  finish 


216  IDA    NORMAN. 

and  proportions  appeared  reposing  amidst  flowers,  or  half 
veiled  from  observation  by  some  interposing  screen. 

"But  he  stood  absorbed  in  gloomy  reverie,  careless  of  the 
voluptuous  scene,  his  thoughts  were  of  the  dark  future ;  the 
embarrassment  of  his  finances,  the  disgrace  which  his  care- 
lessness in  respect  to  the  public  aflairs  committed  to  his 
charge,  would  entail  upon  him.  He  thought  of  the  re- 
proaches of  his  wife  when  she  should  find  her  own  fortune 
gone ;  '  for  though,'  mused  he,  '  she  has,  herself,  been  most 
profuse  in  expenditures,  she  will  not  think  of  that;  she  has 
supposed  her  paternal  inheritance  unbounded,  and  inex- 
haustible. It  has  indeed  been  neglected,  and  my  own  pri- 
vate aflairs  have  fallen  into  confusion  and  ruin  in  my  eager 
devotion  to  my  political  party ;  or  rather,  in  my  strife  for  self- 
aggrandizement,  and  this  is  the  bitter  fruit, — I  am  here,  a 
beggar,  in  the  palace  of  a  prince  ." 

"A  soft  voice  aroused  the  ambassador  from  his  unpleasant 
reverie,  'Pardon  Monsieur;  I  have  lost  my  torquoise  brace- 
let among  the  flowers, — it  was  a  gift  from  a  dear  friend  ;  I 
am  sorry  to  trouble  you,  but  I  was  standing  near  the  co- 
lumn an  hour  since,  and  may  have  dropped  it  there.' 

"  Starting  from  his  reverie  he  said,  '  Permit  me,  madam,  to 
aid  you  in  your  search,'  and  stepping  from  his  position,  he 
looked  down,  where,  among  some  cluster-roses  which  were 
entwined  around  the  base  of  the  column,  lay  coiled  the 
glittering  bracelet,  like  a  serpent  among  flowers. 

"'A  thousand  thanks,  monsieur,' and  the  lady  laid  her 
hand  upon  her  heart,  'Oh!  I  should  have  been  so  much 
grieved  to  have  lost  this  precious  relic  of  a  dear  friend ! 
may  I  trouble  you  to  clasp  the  bracelet  ?'  at  the  same  time 
extending  her  white  arm,  with  the  utmost  naivete,  and  the 
most  bewitching  grace.  A  manner  so  easy  and  artless, 
could  not  fail  to  exite  an  interest  for  the  stranger. 

"  'You  must  accept  this  bouquet  for  your  kindness,  mon- 
sieur,' said  the  lady  presenting  the  bouquet  she  held  in  her 


IDA   NORMAN.  217 

hand.  The  ambassador  accepted  the  proffered  gift,  saying, 
'  by  what  name,  fair  lady,  shall  I  think  of  you,  when  1  look 
at  these  flowers.'  '  I  am  Adele  de  Villette,  and  you,  mon- 
sieur, are  the  American  ambassador.' 

"  Flattered  by  this  unexpected  recognition  of  his  official 
station  among  an  assemblage  of  princes  and  nobles,  and 
interested  in  the  adventure,  he  offered  his  arm  to  the  strange 
lady,  to  escort  her  to  the  supper  rooms,  whither  the  throng 
were  now  moving.  One  hour  more,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
they  had  always  known  each  other,  so  congenial  appeared 
their  tastes  and  sympathies. 

" '  Is  madam,  the  ambassadress,  at  the  fete  to  night  ?'  said 
Mad'lle  de  Villette. 

"'She  was  indisposed,'  was  'the  laconic  answer,  'and  I 
fear  will  think  me  late  in  returning.' 

"'In  France,  monsieur,'  said  mademoiselle,  'husbands 
and  wives  are  free  to  consult  their  own  happiness ;  one 
soon  tires  of  being  always  with  the  same  person,  do  you 
not  like  our  French  custom,  monsieur  ?' 

"  This  was  said  with  such  amiable  and  childlike  simplicity, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  decide  against  the  fair  speaker, 
especially  when  the  sentiment  advanced,  met  with  a  response 
in  the  feelings  of  the  person  thus  appealed  to. 

"The  bouquet  wa*s  preserved,  carried  home,  and  placed  in 
a  vase  of  water  in  a  private  apartment. 

"  It  is  needless  to  trace  the  steps  by  which  Adele  de  Vil- 
lette gained  ascendency  over  the  mind  of  her  victim.  With 
the  ready  tact  of  a  French  woman  of  the  world,  she  per- 
ceived the  weak  points  of  his  character;  she  read  his 
thoughts,  studied  his  tastes,  and  flattered  where  vanity 
rendered  him  most  assailable;  and  yet,  with  all  his  boasted 
penetration,  he  regarded  her  a  child  of  nature,  whose  greatest 
faults  were  those  of  excessive  frankness  and  sensibility. 

"Mrs.  Norman  doubtless,  with  some  curiosity,  observed 
on  her  husband's  dressing  table,  a  faded  bouquet,  receiving 
19 


218  IDA    NORMAN. 

fresh  water  from  day  to  day;  and  again,  she  might  have 
met  with  the  same  flowers,  pressed  between  the  leaves  of  a 
book  of  French  poetry,  with  the  name  of  Adele  de  Villette 
on  its  blank  page ;  and  she  might  have  seen  many  passages 
marked  in  pencil,  by  the  owner,  with  notes  of  exclamation, 
admiration,  and  interrogation.  Her  ignorance  of  the  French 
language,  probably  saved  her  from  comprehending  the 
impassioned  sentiments,  the  loose  morality,  the  abandon — 
expressed  in  those  passages.  But  doubtless,  Eliza  Norman 
had  noticed  a  change  in  the  manner  of  her  husband ;  that  he 
appeared  more  than  ever,  indifferent  and  abstracted,  on  the 
few  occasions  that  he  was  in  her  society.  She  perceived 
herself  a  mere  cipher  in  the  gay  and  brilliant  court,  where 
any  display  which  she  could  make,  was  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  the  grandeur  and  magnificence  by  which  she 
was  surrounded.  Her  spirits  became  gradually,  more  and 
more  depressed ;  the  imaginary  grandeur  of  her  position, 
for  which  she  had  sacrificed  her  home,  and  the  society  of  her 
children,  was  now  seen  but  as  a  delusion.  A  foreign  tongue 
shut  her  out  from  companionship  and  sympathy  with  those 
around  her,  and  none  appeared  to  take  any  interest  in  her 
weal  or  woe.-  Even  in  their  own  official  entertainments  she 
felt  herself  disparaged.  Continually  liable  to  mortification, 
on  account  of  her  ignorance  of  the  language,  and  customs  of 
the  court ;  feeble  in  health,  and  possessing  little  energy  of 
character,  she  found  the  efforts  which  her  position  required, 
unpleasant  and  distasteful,  and  superior  both  to  her  physical 
and  mental  powers. 

"The  last  time  in  which  Mrs.  Norman  appeared  in 
public,  was  on  a  '  reception  night '  at  their  own  house.  She 
had  made  an  unusual  effort  to  appear  to  advantage,  and  with 
woman's  vanity,  (not  inexcusable,  in  a  beloved  object)  as 
she  joined  her  husband  in  the  grand  saloon  of  reception, 
she  sought  to  direct  his  attention  to  herself,  by  asking  him 
if  her  dress  was  suitable  for  the  occasion.  Scarcely  heeding 


IDA    NORMAN.  219 

her  question,  and  without  a  look  towards  her,  the  man  (alas, 
his  conduct  was  scarcely  human)  coldly  said,  'it  is  a  subject 
on  which  I  feel  too  little  interest  to  give  an  opinion.' 

"Among  the  guests,  was  the  Duchesse  de  Chevreuse,  in 
whom  age  had  not  abated  the  love  of  admiration,  and  the 
habit  of  intrigue ;  and  whose  costume  at  eighty,  was  suffi- 
ciently juvenile  for  a  girl  in  her  teens.  The  companion  of  this 
ridiculous  and  pitiable  woman,  was  Adele  de  Villette.  Mrs. 
Norman  probably  noticed  the  look  of  recognition  between 
her  and  her  husband,  and  his  devotion  to  her  during  a  por- 
tion of  the  evening.  Whatever  it  was  that  she  observed,  sus- 
picions were  confirmed  which  had,  probably,  for  some  time, 
existed  in  her  mind.  She  never  left  her  bed  after  that  night. 

"On  the  following  day  she  called  her  husband  to  her  bed- 
side, and  upbraided  him  with  his  neglect  of  her,  and  his  de- 
votion to  another;  in  the  ebullition  of  excited  feelings,  she 
accused  him  of  guilt  of  which  he  was  innocent,  and  this 
was  considered  sufficient  cause  to  justify  his  resentment,  at 
what  he  termed  an  impeachment  of  his  character. 

"Black  choler  fill'd  his  breast,  that  boil'd  with  ire, 
And  from  his  eye-balls,  flashed  the  living  fire." 

"  He  answered  her  accusations  with  bitter  words  of  scorn 
and  contempt,  and  even  professed  to  believe  her  accusations 
of  himself,  the  result  of  impropriety  in  her  own  conduct — 
Eliza  Norman,  thou  hast  been  avenged ! 

"  He  left  her  presence  to  engage  in  scenes  of  business  and 
pleasure ;  and  she,  in  a  few  weeks,  was  released  from  her 
sufferings. 

"Was  no  remorse  felt  by  the  unfeeling  husband,  as  he  stood 
over  the  lifeless  clay  of  one  whom  he  had  borne  from  her 
native  land,  to  die  heart-broken  among  strangers  ?  Did  no 
resolutions  to  return,  at  once,  to  the  care  of  his  children,  pos- 
sess the  mind  of  the  father,  as  he  looked,  for  the  last  time, 
on  the  face  of  the  mother,  cold  in  death  ?  Yes,  deep  was 


220  IDA    NORMAN. 

his  penitence  for  past  neglect,  and  strong  were  his  resolutions 
to  change,  at  once,  the  course  and  current  of  his  life ;  but  alas 
for  human  weakness !  the  resolutions  which  man  makes, 
confiding  in  his  own  strength,  are  fading  as  the  last  hues  of 
sun-set  upon  the  landscape ; — they  depart  with  the  occasion 
which  produced  them,  and  the  moral  view  is  again  en- 
shrouded in  darkness ! 

"Adele  de  Villette  was  a  dependent  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Chevreuse,  a  very  distant  relative,  to  whom  she  had  ren- 
dered herself  useful  by  her  activity  and  taste,  agreeable  by 
her  servile  and  fawning  flattery,  and  convenient  by  the  laxity 
of  her  principles. 

"  Unhappy,  and  beginning  to  waver  in  his  resolution  of  re- 
turning to  his  children  and  country  to  attend  to  his  private 
affairs,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  clear  his  name  from  reproach, 
in  respect  to  his  business  relations,  the  unfortunate  man  again 
met  with  the  sorceress,  who  artfully  threw  herself  in  his 
way  under  the  guise  of  an  angel  of  consolation.  In  a  short 
time,  he  offered  her  his  hand,  which  was  readily  accepted. 

"Soon  after  his  private  marriage  had  taken  place,  the 
American  minister  received  notice  that  he  was  superseded 
in  his  diplomatic  office ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  his  drafts 
on  the  United  States  were  sent  back  protested. 

"Embarrassed  and  humiliated,  he  left  the  Court,  and 
caring  little  whither  he  went,  was  induced  by  Adele  to  go 
to  Florence.  Ignorant  of  his  pecuniary  embarrassment,  she 
expected  he  would  have  taken  a  palace,  and  lived  in  princely 
style.  He,  at  length,  communicated  to  her  his  real  con- 
dition, and  the  necessity  of  retiring  to  an  obscure  residence. 
Here,  he  studiously  avoided  meeting  with  any  of  his  coun- 
trymen. 

"Adele's  power  over  his  mind  was  unbounded ;  her  slight- 
est wish  was  to  him,  a  law,  and  in  the  fascinations  of  her 
society,  he  forgot  himself,  his  children,  and  his  country. 
He  fancied  that,  with  Adele  by  his  side,  he  might  be  happy, 


IDA     NORMAN.  221 

even  in  obscurity  and  poverty.  Letters  from  his  son  and 
daughter,  written  after  hearing  of  the  death  of  their  mother, 
had  some  effect  in  rousing  him  from  his  dream  of  passion. 
Their  helpless  condition,  forlorn  and  destitute,  was  called  up 
to  his  imagination,  and  resolving  to  do  for  them  all  he  could, 
he  appropriated  to  them  a  small  sum  which  he  had  vested  in 
England  to  be  reserved  for  a  case  of  emergency,  and  a  bill 
of  exchange  for  the  same,  was  transmitted  for  their  benefit 
to  the  person  with  whom  his  son  had  been  placed.  This 
was  the  last  parental  act  which- the  unhappy  man  has  ever 
performed  for  those  who  should  have  been  dearer  to  him 
than  his  own  life.  No  palliation  does  he  offer  for  this  de- 
sertion ;  but  if  suffering  in  this  life  can  atone  for  errors,  the 
hermit  might  hope  that  his  sins  are  pardoned. 

"By  degrees,  the  character  and  motives  of  Adele  were 
unfolded  Her  artlessness,  he  found  to  be  the  most  con- 
summate hypocrisy;  and  her  tenderness,  a  cloak  for  the 
basest  selfishness.  When  she  saw  that  her  victim  was  no 
longer  powerful  nor  honored,  she  despised  and  reviled  him. 
And  when  he  had,  for  her,  exhausted  all  his  pecuniary  re- 
sources, and  was  lying  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  she  deserted 
him,  taking  with  her  the  few  valuables  he  still  possessed, 
even  the  miniatures  of  his  wife  and  children,  for  the  sake  of 
the  gold  in  which  they  were  encased.  She  departed; — and 
on  her  table  was  found  the  following  communication. 

u<<Adele  de  Villette  leaves  you  forever.  When  she,  pur- 
posely, dropped  her  bracelet  to  make  an  opportunity  of 
forming  your  acquaintance,  she  believed  you  a  prize,  but 
she  has  been  deceived,  and  find  she  has  drawn  a  blank. 
She  has  other  objects  than  living  in  obscurity  with  any  one, 
especially  one  for  whom  she  has  neither  affection  nor  re- 
spect. What  right  have  you  to  expect  the  sacrifice  of  her 
youth  and  beauty  ?  She  is  not  like  the  tame,  mean-spirited 
woman  who  bore  with  your  neglect  and  contempt  because 
she  felt  herself  in  your  power;  and  who  dared  not  break  the 
19* 


222  IDA   NORMAN. 

ties  which  are  sacred  only  to  fools,  and  bigots.  No!  Adele 
de  Villette  has  made  you  her  dupe.  You,  who  considered 
yourself  so  wise,  so  capable  of  penetrating  into  the  motives 
of  others,  looking  upon  the  human  mind  as  an  instrument 
which  you  could  touch  with  a  master-hand ;  you,  the  great, 
the  wise,  and  the  haughty,  you  have  been  made  the  tool  of 
a  woman's  caprice  and  convenience !  you  may  say  the 
victim  of  a  base  woman;  be  it  so; — console  yourself  by 
magnifying  your  own  distresses,  and  my  faults  ;  I  leave  you 
that  consolation,  you  have  nothing  else.' 

*'  Disgusted  with  Adele,  himself,  and  the  world,  and  be- 
lieving himself  marked  out  for  disgrace,  and  that  his  presence 
would  but  brand  with  infamy  those  connected  with  him,  he 
who  had  once  been  so  proud  and  aspiring,  resolved  to  con- 
ceal himself  in  the  deepest  solitude,.  He  sought  among  the 
cliffs  and  caverns  of  the  Appenines  to  find  a  spot  where  he 
might  live  and  die  unknown ;  and  he  found — Valambrosa. 

"  The  Hermit  has  completed  the  painful  task  of  confessing 
the  errors,  the  sins  of  his  past  life,  which  he  has  sought 
to  represent  in  their  true  lineaments  without  disguise  or 
palliation,  as  he  would  have  delineated  the  character  of 
another ; — he  finds  much  to  condemn,  and  little  to  approve. 
He  applies  to  his  soul,  the  words  of  the  hand-writing  on  the 
wall,  addressed  to  the  wretched  king  of  Babylon  ;  and  for 
his  past  offences,  condemns  himself  to  live  apart  from  the 
haunts  of  men. 

"  As  this  world  is  lost  to  him,  he  would  fain  seek  for  par- 
don and  forgiveness  from  on  high,  that  he  may  have  hope, 
for  a  future  life. 

k' Having  finished  the  details  of  past  offences,  I  lay  aside 
the  third  person,  and  will  now  speak  of  myself  without  that 
interposing  screen.  I  have  studied  myself;  I  have  seen  how 
defective  have  been  my  springs  of  action.  The  first  element 
of  a  true  greatness,  is  virtuous  principle  ;  on  this  basis  alone, 
can  be  raised  the  superstructure  of  a  truly  elevated  character, 


IDA    NORMAN.  223 

The  richest  gifts  of  intellect  are  only  valuable  as  they  are 
accompanied  by  corresponding  moral  qualities;  and  no  mo- 
rality can  be  sound  and  effective,  that  is  not  built  upon  reli- 
gion. I  looked,  in  vain,  for  support  in  the  cold  abstractions 
of  philosophy.  I  have  sought  in  science  to  find  oblivion 
for  the  past,  and  in  pursuits  of  literature  to  lose  the  con- 
sciousness of  my  present  condition ;  but  philosophy,  sci- 
ence, and  literature  have  all  proved  powerless  and  vain; 
they  afford  no  balm  for  a  bruised  heart. 

"The  holy  bible  which  I  had  seldom  read,  and  never 
studied  with  any  desire  to  be  enlightened,  presented  itself, 
when  all  other  sources  failed  to  strengthen  and  console. 
Like  Moses,  in  the  burning  bush,  and  in  the  mount,  like 
Abraham  and  like  Jacob  at  Bethel,  I  have  talked  with  God, 
and  my  soul  has  risen  from  her  low  estate,  and  soared  aloft 
to  the  spiritual  and  unseen  world.  Angels  have  seemed  to 
encamp  around  me  and  whisper  of  forgiveness  and  peace. 
In  contemplating  the  life  and  teachings  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
my  proud  spirit  has  been  subdued,  and  I  trust  the  meek  and 
pure  doctrines  of  Christianity  have  entered  into  my  heart, 
and  changed  its  desires  and  aims.  The  honors  of  this  world 
seem,  in  my  estimation,  as  less  than  nothing,  compared  with 
the  glory  which,  even  in  this  life,  attends  upon  the  humble 
and  penitent  believer ;  and  no  achievement  do  I  regard  so 
honorable,  as  victory  over  the  evil  passions  of  a  corrupt  nature. 

"Since  I  have  found  that  peace,  which  'as  the  world 
giveth  not,  neither  can  it  take  away,'  I  have  sometimes 
doubted  whether  I  ought  not  to  return  to  my  country  and 
seek  out  those  deserted  children,  whom  my  fears  represent 
as  living  in  wretchedness,  perhaps,  in  infamy.  But  dead  as 
I  have  been  to  my  friends,  and  the  world,  my  re-appearance 
might  injure  my  family,  and  bring  greater  distress  upon 
them.  They  now  doubtless,  mourn  me  as  dead  ;  then  why 
re-call  to  them  the  unhappy  past,  or  tempt  myself  to  engage 
in  worldly  projects ! 


224  IDA    NORMAN. 

*'  Resigning  the  direction  of  events  to  Him  who  knoweth 
what  is  best,  I  will  wait  in  humble  faith  and  dependence  for 
indications  of  His  will,  prepared  to  follow  the  leadings  of 
His  providence.  Should  sudden  death  remove  me  from  the 
world,  and  this  paper  be  found  by  any  who  may  seek  for 
evidence,  as  to  who  and  what,  was  the  '  Hermit  of  the  cliff,' 
it  will  be  seen  that  my  errors  were  great ;  that  though  my 
better  nature  struggled  against  temptation,  I  yielded  to  it. 
But  it  will  also  be  seen  that  I  turned  with  horror  and  loath- 
ing from > my  sins;  that  I  became  penitent,  and  in  faith  and 
humility  embraced  the  religion  of  the  cross,  which  is  now 
my  only  consolation  in  life,  and  will,  I  trust  sustain  me  in 
death ;  regarding  that  event,  to  the  believer,  as  an  entrance 
into  what  may  truly  be  called  life ;  and  this  imperfect  state, 
but  the  twilight  dawning  of  a  brighter  and  better  existence. 
To  this  paper,  I  affix  my  true  name, 

JAMES  LIVINGSTON  NORMAN, 

Of  the  City  of  New  York,  U.  S.  of  America." 
Powerful  emotions  agitated  the  mind  of  Landon,  during 
the  perusal  of  this  paper.  The  explanations  which  Mr. 
Norman  had  given  of  his  conduct,  his  penitence  and 
humility  inspired  the  hope  that  he  would  return  to  his 
family,  not  only  a  "better  and  a  wiser  man,"  but  much 
happier  than  he  had  ever  been  ; — and  Landon  went  to  his 
repose  with  a  mind  lightened  of  a  heavy  burthen.  In  his 
dreams,  he  wandered  with  Ida  Norman  in  a  garden  of 
flowers,  among  which  she  lost  her  bracelet,  and  when  he 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  he  saw  the  coil  of  a  glittering  serpent 
in  its  place ;  as  he  attempted  to  crush  the  serpent,  it  stood 
up  before  him  in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman,  exclaim- 
ing, "Why  would  you  destroy  Adele  de  Villette?"  Then 
he  saw  a  man  of  distinguished  appearance  standing  by 
a  column  in  the  garden ;  and  the  female  go  to  him  with  a 
smile  so  enchanting,  that  he  followed  where  she  led  the 
way,  through  mire  and  deep  waters,  through  tangled  briers 


IDA    NORMAN.  225 

and  over  steep  acclivities,  until  hissing,  she  again  became  a 
serpent  and  glided  away,  while  he  who  had  followed  her, 
hid  himself  in  a  cave  in  the  earth. 

Then  he  was  sitting  in  a  summer-house  on  the  shore  of 
Long  Island  Sound,  with  Louis  Norman  and  two  lovely 
women ;  and  he  fancied,  he  heard  one  of  them  say,  "  now, 
dear  Ida,  we  are  doubly  sisters."  Landon  sighed,  when  he 
awoke,  to  find  it  but  a  dream. 

He  rose  from  his  dreaming  couch,  and  wrote  a  hurried 
epistle  to  Louis,  enclosing  his  father's  auto-biography,  and 
informing  him  of  their  intention  to  hasten  their  return  to 
America. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

MRS.  NEWTON'S  DINNER-PARTY. 

THE  inmates  of  Science  Hall,  after  the  agitation  caused 
by  the  forged  letters,  and  the  engagement  of  Laura  Landon, 
were  again  pursuing  the  calm  and  "  even  tenor  of  their 
way"  in  the  usual  routine  of  duty.  Laura,  now  known  as 
the  fiancee  of  Louis  Norman,  neither  affected  silly  reserve, 
nor  proclaimed  her  engagement,  as  if  it  were  an  event  to 
agitate  the  earth  to  its  centre.  She  had  returned  to  Mrs. 
Newton's,  and  quietly  resumed  her  usual  occupations.  Louis 
stole  away  as  often  as  his  professional  engagements  would 
permit,  to  the  quiet  and  romantic  scenes  which  were  associ- 
ated with  the  dream  of  his  young  life. 

Soon  after  Laura's  return,  Mrs.  Newton  sent  invitations 
to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashburn,  and  Julia  Selby  to  dine  at  the 
"Hall."  She  requested  Mrs.  Landon  and  Louis  Norman 


IDA    NORMAN. 

to  meet  them  there;  observing  to  the  latter,  that  she  thought 
it  due  to  their  intimate  friends,  to  inform  them  of  the  relation 
which  subsisted  between  Laura  and  himself. 

The  day  for  Mrs.  Newton's  select  dinner-party  was  perfect 
in  its  calmness  and  serenity.  The  few  invited  guests,  at  an 
hour  unfashionably  early,  were  on  their  way  to  the  Hall. 
Louis  Norman,  on  horseback,  pleasantly  occupied  with  his 
own  thoughts,  was  passing  Mr:  Selby's  carriage,  without 
observing  whose  it  was,  when  Julia  letting  down  the  glass, 
exclaimed,  "  Good  morning,  Mr.  Norman,  and  so  you  was 
going  to  pass  me  without  even  a  word  of  recognition; 
really,  you  forget  your  friends  very  suddenly !" 

"A  thousand  pardons,  Miss  Selby,"  said  Louis,  touching 
his  hat,  "you  are  one  of  the  last  persons  I  would  wish  to 
forget,  my  sister's  long  tried  friend." 

"Only*your  sister's  friend,  Mr.  Norman,  I  have  flattered 
myself  that  you  thought  of  me  as  your  friend." 

"My  friend,  Miss  Selby,  I  sincerely  hope  you  are  such." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Norman,  if  you  are  my  friend,  why  have  you 
not  been  to  see  me  since  my  birth-night  party?  I  believe 
you  are  the  only  gentleman  invited,  who  has  not  since 
called." 

u  I  crave  your  pardon,  Miss  Selby,  it  was  indeed  a  breach 
of  etiquette,  for  which  I  owe  you  an  apology." 

"  Etiquette,  Mr.  Norman,  is  a  cold  word  to  be  used  be- 
tween friends !  But  do  you  know  how  poor  Laura  Landon 
is  ?  she  left  the  party  the  other  night  so  early,  I  thought 
she  must  have  been  indisposed,  and  she  seemed  in  such 
wretched  spirits !" 

"  I  think — I  believe — she  is  quite  well  now,"  answered 
Louis. 

"Poor  thing,"  said  Julia,  "I  remember  well,  just  how 
she  looked  the  very  day  she  came  to  school;  t  thought 
her  then  very  pretty,  though  she  appeared  depressed.  She 
is  now  very  beautiful ;  do  you  not  think  so,  Mr.  Norman  ?" 


IDA    NORMAN.  227 

The  horse  at  this  instant,  gave  a  sudden  bound,  and 
Louis,  bowing  as  he  passed  the  carriage,  said,  "you  are 
going  to  the  Hall,  I  shall  be  at  the  door  to  meet  you." 

Julia  was  not  certain  whether  the  bound  of  the  horse 
was  accidental,  or  caused  by  the  will  of  the  rider.  She 
saw  that  the  manner  of  Louis  Norman  was  far  from  being 
lover-like.  "After  all,"  thought  she,  "  he  may  be  attached 
to  Laura,  and  why  should  he  not  be  ?  yet  it  is  humiliating  to 
feel  myself  foiled  in  the  attempt  to  interest  his  heart.  My 
flatterers  would  make  me  believe  I  am  irresistible,  when  I 
wish  to  please ;  I  have  done  my  best  in  this  case,  and  as  it 
appears,  with  little  effect.  Mrs.  Newton  has  warned  me 
much  against  flattery ;  yet  if  it  be  a  poison,  it  is  a  palatable 
one,  but  it  is  not  agreeable  to  find  it  false." 

The  graceful  figure  of  Louis  Norman  was  seen  by  Julia 
on  the  steps,  as  he  stood  awaiting  her  approach ;  and  Ida 
and  Laura  were  soon  at  the  door,  to  welcome  their  friend. 

Poor  Laura  Landon,  attired  with  elegant  simplicity,  her 
heart  buoyant  with  bright  hopes,  and  the  consciousness  of 
requited  affection,  appeared  to  Julia  as  surpassingly  lovely, 
iu  the  unusual  radiance  of  her  eyes,  and  the  animation 
which  was  diffused  over  her  beaming  countenance. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashburn  were  soon  added  to  the  party,  and 
Mrs.  Landon,  who  had  arrived  still  earlier,  was  already 
seated  with  Mrs.  Newton  in  the  drawing-room  where  she 
received  her  friends. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashburn  who  were  acquainted  with  the 
state  of  affairs  between  Louis  Norman  and  Laura  Lan- 
don, understood  the  particular  occasion  of  the  invitation  at 
that  time.  They  were  pleased  to  meet  with  Mrs.  Landon, 
both  on  account  of  past  associations,  and  the  future  connec- 
tion which  was  to  be  formed  between  her  daughter  and  one 
so  dear  to  them  as  Louis  had  become. 

Mrs.  Ashburn  was  soon  deeply  engaged  with  Mrs.  Lan- 
don and  Mrs.  Newton  in  talking  over  the  events  of  their 


228  IDA    NORMAN. 

school-days.  They  spoke  of  the  many  inroads  made  by 
death,  among  those  who  were  once  in  the  same  circle  of 
young  and  happy  girls ; — of  the  melancholy  death  of  Eliza 
Tudor  in  a  foreign  country;  of  Julia  Moncrief,  who  was  so 
suddenly  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  Mr.  Selby's  prosperity,  and 
when  her  sons  and  her  daughter  most  needed  a  mother's 
watchful  care  and  prudent  counsel. 

"  We  have  each,  my  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Ashburn,  "  had 
our  own  peculiar  trials ;  I  have  been  bereft  of  my  children, 
and  though  blest  with  an  abundance  of  this  world's  posses- 
sions, have  been  left  with  none  to  enjoy  it  with  me." 

"You  forget,  dear  Frances,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "that 
your  husband  has  been  spared  to  you ;  think  of  those  who 
have  lost  all !" 

"  I  am  indeed  ungrateful,"  said  Mrs.  Ashburn — "  for  there 
is  Louis,  who  is,  the  same  as  a  son  to  us ;  he  has  diffused  new 
life  within  our  once  lonely  household.  Mr.  Ashburn  is  very 
proud  of  him.  You  are  truly  happy,  my  dear  Mrs.  Landon, 
in  the  connection  your  daughter  is  about  to  form ;  and  she 
is,  I  hear,  a  most  lovely  and  accomplished  young  lady.  I 
have  been  very  desirous  of  forming  her  acquaintance  since 
Louis  informed  us  of  his  engagement;  or  rather,  dutifully, 
asked  our  sanction  to  the  same." 

Mrs.  Landon's  tearful  eye  spoke  the  varying  emotions  of 
a  mother's  heart  too  full  for  utterance. 

Mr.  Ashburn  and  Louis  appeared  engaged  in  earnest  con- 
versation in  a  distant  part  of  the  drawing-room ;  while  the 
young  ladies,  in  an  adjoining  apartment,  were  practising 
some  new  music  which  Julia  had  just  brought  from  the  city. 

"Have  you  looked  into  the  affair,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn  to 
Louis,  "that  I  have  spoken  to  you  about  of  the  foreclosure 
of  the  mortgage,  which  your  father  gave  to  Israel  Mordecai  ? 
J  doubt  not  you  will  be  able  to  prove  it  was  an  illegal 
transaction,  and  that  you  have  still  a  claim  to  the  equity 
of  redemption." 


IDA    NORMAN.  229 

"  I  have  sir,"  said  Louis,  "  examined  the  public  records, 
and  I  can  find  no  account  of  the  transaction;  nor  can 
I  learn  that  there  was  any  advertisement  of  the  sale,  or  that 
any  notification,  whatever,  was  given  of  the  intention  of  the 
mortgagee  to  foreclose." 

"  It  is  as  I  suspected ;  this  affair  must  be  looked  into. 
Your  father's  absence  was  seized  upon  to  hasten  this  fore- 
closure; and  believing  no  one  would  appear  to  investigate 
the  business,  that  old  miser,  Mordecai,  presumed  to  take 
the  law  into  his  own  hands,  and  making  a  mere  show  of 
form,  he  got  possession  of  this  property.  But  we  must 
follow  up  his  villainy,  and  rescue  this  splendid  estate  from 
his  grasp." 

"  If  we  could  do  it,"  said  Louis,  smiling,  "  it  would  be 
even  a  greater  triumph  than  that,  which,  through  your 
means,  I  achieved  over  Perseverance  Fox;  though  if  it  were 
the  wealth  of  a  nation,  and  I  could  obtain  it  all,  it  could 
not  make  me  happier  than  did  the  recovering  of  my  watch 
and  diamonds.  Indeed,  I  have  often  thought  I  owed  a  great 
debt  of  gratitude  to  that  man,  for  sending  me  to  your  house, 
where  I  found  parents,  and  more  than  parents." 

Mr.  Ashburn's  eyes  were  moistened  with  the  ready  tear, 
but  he  did  not  fancy  scenes,  and  changed  the  subject. 

"  You  wear  your  old  watch  yet,  it  seems,  Louis  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly  sir,  it  is  my  talisman ;  the  most  fashion- 
able watch  in  the  city,  could  not  buy  this  piece  of  an- 
tiquity." 

"And  the  diamonds,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn,  "you  never 
wear  them,  I  think." 

"  In  my  opinion,"  said  Louis,  "  a  lawyer's  jewels  and 
diamonds  should  drop  from  his  mouth,  rather  than  be  worn 
on  his  fingers,  or  his  bosom;  I  have  given  the  diamond  pin 
to  my  sister,  and  the  ring  to  " 

"  Oh  yes,  1  understand,  in  token  of  the  plain  gold  ring 

20 


• 


230  IDA    NORMAN. 

which  is  to  follow — you  could  not  have  bestowed  it  more 
worthily." 

At  dinner,  Mr.  Ashburn  proposed  as  a  toast,  (to  be  drank 
either  with  wine  or  water,  as  might  suit  the  different  tastes 
or  principles  of  the  company)  "  the  health  of  Louis  Nor- 
man and  Laura  Landon,  wishing  them  a  speedy  union  and, 
long  years  of  prosperity." 

"Louis  bowed  to  Mr.  Ashburn,  and  sent  an  inquiring 
glance  towards  Laura,  who,  surprised  at  this  unexpected 
allusion,  blushed  deeply,  and  cast  her  eyes  downward  in 
modest  confusion.  Ida  thanked  Mr.  Ashburn  with  her 
most  expressive  look  for  his  interest  in  her  brother,  while 
she  whispered  to  Laura,  "hold  up  your  head,  my  dear,  you 
have  no  cause  to  blush  for  your  choice."  Mrs.  Newton, 
deeply  affected,  remarked  to  Mr.  Ashburn,  that  the  young 
couple  would  ever  have  cause  to  remember  him  as  the 
author  of  their  happiness. 

"You,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr.  Ashburn,  "have  been 
the  first  to  lead  the  way  in  deeds  of  kindness  and  disin- 
terested benevolence." 

One  individual  in  this  party  seemed  ill  at  ease — Julia 
Selby,  surprised  at  Mr.  Ashburn's  toast,  first  looked  pale, 
then  red,  and  afterwards,  to  hide  her  chagrin,  began  talking 
and  laughing  very  loudly,  as  if  in  an  exuberance  of  spirits, 
deceiving  all  but  herself,  and  Mrs.  Newton,  who  had  ob- 
served, with  much  regret,  the  effect  of  this  announcement 
upon  her.  She  had  wished  that  Julia  should  be  fully  un- 
deceived, as  early  as  possible,  as  to  the  intentions  of  Louis 
Norman. 

The  company  had  retired  to  the  drawing-room,  and  were 
taking  coffee,  when  a  messenger  arrived  from  the  city,  with 
a  package  of  ship-letters  for  Louis  Norman,  who,  as  he  had 
been  hourly  expecting  the  packet-ship,  which  he  hoped 
would  bring  him  letters  from  William  Landon,  had,  before 


IDA    NORMAN.  231 

leaving  home,  directed,  in  case  of  such  an  event,  that  the 
letters  should  be  brought  to  him  at  Science  Hall. 

Louis,  looking  at  the  package,  exclaimed,  "Here  is  a 
letter  from  Landon,  post-marked  at  Florence;"  and  then  in 
a  lower  tone,  "  I  dread  to  open  this  package,  lest  it  may 
destroy  my  cherished,  but  perhaps  visionary  hopes!" 

Ida  flew  to  her  brother,  and  bending  over  his  shoulder, 
glanced  with  him  at  the  journal  of  Landon's  arrival  at 
Florence,  his  impressions  of  the  place,  studies,  &.c.  until 
they  both,  at  the  same  moment,  caught  the  expression, 
(under  a  later  date)  "  /  have  just  parted  with  your  father, — 
he  will  return  with  me,  and  will  be  able  to  exculpate  him- 
self from  much  that  has  been  laid  to  his  charge.  The  large 
package  which  accompanies  this,  is  his  auto-biography. 
If  I  have  found  it  deeply  interesting,  what  will  it  be  to  his 
children  ?" 

Ida  clasped  her  hands  silently,  and  laying  her  head  upon 
her  brother's  shoulder,  exclaimed,  "  Louis !  dear  Louis !  we 
are  not  orphans  !  we  are  not  dishonored !  let  us  thank  God 
for  his  goodness." 

Louis,  too  deeply  affected  to  speak,  pressed  his  sister's 
hand  in  silence,  and  beckoning  to  Laura,  who,  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  scene,  stood  hesitating,  irresolute,  whether  to 
approach  or  not.  "  You  are  one  of  us,"  he  said,  "  will  you 
not  own  this  father,  even  though  he  may  have  erred  ?" 

"  Will  that  father  own  the  poor  Laura  Landon  ?"  asked 
she,  in  a  low  and  tremulous  tone,  unheard  by  all  but  he 
to  whom  it  was  addressed. 

"  He  will  be  proud  of  her,"  said  Louis,  in  a  louder  tone; 
"  we  will  all  devote  ourselves  to  his  happiness." 

The  friends  present,  heartily  congratulated  Louis  and  Ida 
upon  this  joyful  occasion.  The  good  Mr.  Ashburn  seemed 
young  again. 

"  I  always  said  so  Louis  ;  I  always  said  your  father  had 
good  reasons  for  what  he  has  done.  I  had  his  picture,  and 


232  IDA    NORMAN. 

wheu  his  enemies  tried  to  blacken  his  character,  I  hung  it 
in  the  most  conspicuous  place  in  my  office.  But  1  never 
flattered  him,  when  the  world  were  all  running  after  him ; 
and  he  often  thought  me  indifferent,  because  I  refused  to 
join  in  the  false  adulation  offered  him  by  the  selfish  and 
designing.  It  will  do  me  good  to  look  upon  him,  once 
more." 

Mrs.  Newton  offered  to  the  brother  and  sister  her  heart- 
felt congratulations; — but  wondered  much,  what  kind  of 
explanations  could  be  made,  which  would  excuse  a  father 
for  an  abandonment  of  his  parental  duties,  for  a  period  of  so 
many  years. 

Mrs.  Landon  was  happy  to  learn  that  her  son  had  been 
instrumental  in  discovering  the  place  of  Mr.  Norman's  se- 
clusion, and  that  Louis'  prospects  of  happiness  were  bright- 
ening. 

Julia  Selby,  in  reality  benevolent  and  sympathizing,  ex- 
cept when  her  own  personal  vanity  was  affected,  partook  in 
the  general  rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  Mr.  Norman's  return. 
Mrs.  Newton  watched  the  triumph  of  her  better  nature — 
and  was  thankful. 

As  soon  as  Ida  became  composed,  she  left  the  room  to 
find  her  dear  friends,  Miss  Wentworth  and  Miss  Milburn, 
who,  after  dinner,  had  returned  to  their  accustomed  duties 
with  the  pupils  of  the  school.  She  desired  that  they  might 
share  in  her  happiness,  and  never  had  she  appealed  to  them 
for  sympathy,  in  sorrow  or  in  joy,  that  she  did  not  receive 
it.  They  were,  on  this  occasion,  scarcely  less  delighted 
than  Ida  herself;  and  the  pupils  were  all  excused  from  further 
duties  on  that  day,  that  they  too,  might  rejoice  that  Ida  Nor* 
man's  father  was  alive,  and  would  soon  be  in  New  York. 


IDA    NORMAN.  233 


CHAPTER    IX. 

RETURN    OF    THE    TRAVELLERS. FRANK    SELBY's    IDEA    OF 

OCCUPATION. ATTENTION     OF      THE     SELBYS     TO      THE 

JUNIOR    PARTNER. IDA    NORMAN    SHORTENS    HER    VISIT. 

IN  a  few  days,  a  second  letter  was  received  from  Landon, 
informing  Louis  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  defer  his  voy- 
age for  a  short  time,  and  that  Mr.  Norman  would  not  return 
with  them,  as  he  wished  to  go  to  London  to  secure  some 
important  papers,  which  he  had  deposited  with  his  former 
bankers  in  that  city,  and  which,  on  his  return  to  the  United 
States,  he  should  require,  in  making  a  settlement  with  the 
government. 

Landon  wrote  that  the  business  of  Selby  &.  Co.  at  home 
requiring  his  prompt  attention,  he  had  very  reluctantly  de- 
cided to  sail  without  Mr.  Norman,  who  would  follow,  as 
soon  as  possible  in  an  English  packet. 

Great  disappointment  was  felt  by  the  affectionate  son  and 
daughter,  at  this  intelligence;  but  confiding  in  Landon's  as- 
surances that  their  father  was  as  anxious  to  see  them,  as 
they  were  for  his  return,  they  cheerfully  submitted  to  this 
lighter  trial. 

Ida  Norman  had  gone  to  spend  a  few  days  with  Julia 
Selby,  who,  by  this  time,  had  ceased  to  mourn  over  the 
failure  of  her  plans  for  the  conquest  of  Louis ;  when  it  was 
announced  that  the  packet,  in  which  William  Landon  and 
Frank  Selby  were  expected,  was  at  the  quarantine  ground. 
This  intelligence  was  soon  followed  by  the  arrival  of  Frank 
Selby,  with  a  large  quantity  of  luggage. 

Mr.  Selby,  who  was  a  kind  father,  cordially  welcomed  his 
son,  and  Julia  received  her  brother  affectionately. 

The  presence  of  Miss  Ida  Norman,  though  very  unex- 
20* 


234  IDA    NORMAN. 

pected,  was  by  no  means  disagreeable  to  Frank;  and  as  he 
eyed  her  with  a  gaze  somewhat  embarrassing,  he  mentally 
exclaimed,  that  she  was  "  more  magnificent  than  ever." 

Frank  had,  however,  evidently  improved  much  in  man- 
ners and  intelligence ;  his  delighted  father  tried  him  upon 
French  and  Italian,  asked  him  questions  about  the  places  he 
had  visited,  and  became  more  and  more  pleased  with  his 
answers. 

"Why  my  son,"  said  he,  "as  long  as  you  were  kept  at 
school,  you  could  seldom  give  a  correct  answer  to  any  ques- 
tion that  was  asked  you,  but  you  seem  to  have  made  good 
use  of  your  foreign  tour." 

"  I  never  had  a  good  teacher  before,  father,"  said  Frank, 
"your  junior  partner  has  schooled  me  to  good  purpose. 
You  put  me  into  a  fine  pickle,  to  send  me  off  with  so 
decided  a  fellow  as  he,  with  not  a  dollar  of  my  own,  only  as 
he  pleased  to  give  it." 

"  Are  you  sorry  for  it,  now,  Frank  ?" 

"  No  father,  to  tell  the  truth  I  am  not ;  and  my  notions 
of  things  are  considerably  altered.  You  will  find  me  a 
steady  man,  if  you  will  but  try  me  in  a  proper  way,  and 
give  me  some  encouragement  to  attend  to  business." 

"  What  business  would  you  like  to  pursue,  Frank  ?"  said 
his  father,  "  nothing  would  please  me  better  than  to  assist 
you  to  engage  in  some  occupation." 

"  Well  father,  the  kind  of  occupation  I  should  like,  would 
be  to  occupy  an  elegant  seat  somewhere  on  the  Hudson, 
with  an  estate  about  me  of  a  few  thousand  acres;  and  then 
with  some  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  dollars  income,  I  think 
the  occupation  might  be  made  quite  agreeable,  especially 
with  some  beautiful  and  sensible  young  lady,  who  would 
'Weep  when  I  praised  her,  and  blush  when  I  blamed,' as 
Byron  says.  No,  I  mean  'blush  when  I  praised  her,'  &c." 

"And  you  mean  Moore,  instead  of  Byron,"  said  Julia, 
vexed  at  Frank's  blunders.  "  I  suppose,  Frank,  you  mean 


IDA    NORMAN.  235 

that  you  would  take  me  to  that  beautiful  castle  of  yours,  as 
you  often  make  me  Hush  for  your  blunders,  and  cry  for 
your  teasing." 

"No,  no  Jule,"  and  he  glanced  at  Ida  as  he  spoke,  "I 
had  no  reference  to  you ;  I  had  some  one  in  my  eye  much 
handsomer  than  you  are.  Mr.  Landon  knows  who,  for  I 
have  made  him  a  confidant ;  and  he  will,  I  dare  say,  give  me 
a  good  recommendation  for  '  honesty,  sobriety,'  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing." 

Frank's  preference  for  Ida,  did  not  disturb  Julia,  on  the 
contrary  she  began  to  fancy  that  something  might  come  of 
it;  she  really  loved  Ida  much,  and  would  be  proud  of  her 
as  a  sister,  besides  she  would  thenx  be  out  of  the  way  of 
rivalship. 

Mr.  Selby,  not  entirely  satisfied  with  Frank's  views  of  a 
future  occupation,  made  no  comments  upon  his  remarks,  but 
inquired,  "Where  is  Mr.  Landon,  and  when  will  he  be 
here  ?" 

"He  is  at  his  mother's  I  presume,"  said  Frank,  "but  I  dare 
say  he  will  be  here  soon,  for  I  have  a  fancy  that  he  thinks 
a  good  deal  about  our  Jule." 

Mr.  Selby's  look  of  satisfaction  at  this  remark,  did  not 
escape  Ida's  observation,  or  if  she  had  been  in  doubt  as  to 
its  expression,  the  remark  which  followed  was  not  to  be 
misunderstood. 

"I  told  my  partner  before  he  went  abroad,"  said  Mr. 
Selby,  "that  I  would  prefer  my  daughter's  marrying  an 
intelligent  young  man,  with  good  morals  and  habits,  without 
fortune,  than  an  idle,  dissipated  fellow ; — even  if  he  did  occupy 
an  estate  on  the  Hudson,  with  ever  so  large  an  income." 

"Why  papa,"  said  Julia,  with  no  serious  displeasure, 
"how  could  you  speak  thus  to  Mr.  Landon?  I  fear  he 
thought  you  meant ." 

"And  so  I  did  mean,  Julia,  I  am  plain  spoken  and  direct." 

Ida's  heart  was  deeply  pained  at  this  conversation.     Wil- 


236  IDA    NORMAN. 

liam  Landon,  had,  from  childhood,  been  an  object  of  interest 
to  her;  and  in  riper  years,  she  had  thought  of  him  with 
deep  solicitude.  As  his  fortunes  had  gradually  advanced, 
she  had  rejoiced,  as  in  the  prosperity  of  a  brother.  William 
was  often  pensive,  and  Ida,  when  seeing  it,  would  exert 
herself  to  make  him  smile,  and  look  happy;  she  seemed  not 
to  think  of  herself,  but  of  him,  and  if  she  ever  thought  of 
being  more  to  him  than  a  friend,  it  was  that  she  might 
devote  herself  to  his  happiness.  William  was  usually 
reserved  in  his  manner  towards  her;  yet  she  had  sometimes 
met  his  eye  fixed  upon  her  with  an  earnest  gaze,  which  he 
would  withdraw  in  confusion.  Ida  did  not  understand 
this ;  the  thought  of  the  former  inequality  in  their  conditions 
never  occurred  to  her, — she  had  become  accustomed  to 
consider  herself,  a  destitute  orphan.  William  had  once  said, 
when  they  were  overtaken  by  a  storm,  as  they  were  sailing 
in  a  skiff,  on  Long  Island  Sound,  "  Ida,  can  we  not  buffet 
the  storms  together?"  He  had  sometimes  handed  her  a 
book  to  read,  with  a  slip  of  his  own  poetry  enclosed  ;  and 
had,  in  a  very  delicate  manner,  made  her  presents  of  flowers, 
pictures,  and  music. 

In  the  tablets  of  the  heart,  his  sayings  and  acts  were 
treasured  up,  but  when  examined  by  the  test  of  reason,  they 
signified  nothing;  and  Ida  often  felt  that  she  had  no  cause 
to  believe  William  Landon  interested  in  herself,  except  as  a 
friend,  and  unfortunate. 

On  the  evening  after  his  arrival  in  the  city,  Landon  called 
at  Mr.  Selby's  where  he  received  a  warm  and  affectionate 
greeting  from  every  one,  except  Ida  Norman  ;  who  appeared 
more  reserved  than  ever;  while  Miss  Selby,  with  all  the 
ease  of  a  finished  lady  of  haul  ton,  conversed  with  him  upon 
the  countries  he  had  visited,  expressed  her  great  delight 
at  seeing  him  again,  and  looking  so  well  too; — but 
a  residence  abroad  gave  such  a  finish  to  a  gentleman's 
manners,  it  was  really  a  great  advantage,  and  could  not  be 


IDA    NORMAN.  237 

too  highly  appreciated.  She  spoke  of  music,  the  French 
theatre,  and  the  Italian  opera ;  asked  his  opinion  of  the 
original  paintings  and  sculpture  of  the  old  masters,  and  led 
him  to  speak  of  the  varied  scenery  of  the  different  countries 
through  which  he  had  travelled,  conversing  with  as  much 
ease  and  fluency,  upon  places,  persons  and  things,  as  if  she 
were  familiarly  acquainted  with  all.  Landon,  though  aware 
that  Miss  Selby's  mind  was  highly  cultivated,  was  yet  sur- 
prised at  her  extensive  research,  and  her  retentive  memory. 
He  admired  the  fine  style  of  her  conversation,  and  the  taste 
and  elegance  of  her  dress;  and  he  thought  within  himself, 
that  even  in  a  European  court,  Miss  Selby  would  pass  for  an 
elegant  woman.  But  he  evidently  sought  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  leave  her,  and  go  to  the  side  of  Ida  Norman,  to 
whom  he  spoke  in  low  tones  of  her  father,  of  the  deep 
interest  he  felt  for  him,  and  of  the  many  inquiries  he  had 
made  respecting  her  and  Louis.  "  I  thank  you  Mr.  Landon," 
was  all  Ida  could  say,  "  We  can  never  forget  your  kind- 
ness. Have  you  yet  seen  my  brother,  Mr.  Landon  ?" 

"He  came  to  the  vessel  as  soon  as  it  arrived  in  the 
harbour,  and  accompanied  me  to  my  mother's ;  Laura  was 
there,  expecting  me ;  I  am  delighted  that  she  and  Louis  have 
at  length  come  to  an  understanding  of  each  other's  senti- 
ments, they  seem  very  happy." 

"Very,"  said  Ida,  her  parched  tongue  cleaving  to  the 
roof  of  her  mouth. 

"  I  hope  our  dear  Mrs.  Newton  is  in  good  health,"  said 
Landon. 

"  She  is  very  well,  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Landon." 

"And  our  friends,  the  excellent  Miss  Wentworth,  and  the 
amiable  Miss  Milburn,  are  they  well  ?" 

"  Quite." 

Mr.  Selby  approached  and  asked  some  questions  on 
business  affairs,  which  gave  Ida  an  opportunity  to  escape 
from  the  room.  She  went  to  her  chamber  and  closed  the 


238 


IDA    NORMAN. 


door ;  long  and  earnestly  did  she  examine  her  own  heart  to 
detect  the  springs  of  thought  and  action  there;  and  after 
severe  struggles  with  herself,  she  resolved  that  she  would, 
hereafter,  with  assistance  from  above,  control  her  feelings, 
and  still  love  William  Landon  as  a  friend,  though  he  did 
prefer  Julia  Selby  to  her. 

Mr.  Landon  soon  left,  and  Julia  found  Ida  in  her  cham- 
ber, cheerful  and  composed.  Julia  was  lavish  in  her  praises 
of  their  visitor,  his  good  looks,  improved  style  of  dress  and 
manners,  and  his  agreeable  and  intelligent  conversation  ; 
and  she  asked  Ida,  in  a  manner,  which  might  have  been 
taken  as  serious,  or  jesting,  if  she  would  be  her  bridesmaid, 
when  she  should  be  married  to  William  Landon. 

"  Certainly,  if  such  an  event  should  take  place,  and  you 
should  wish  it,  dear  Julia ;  was  the  answer ;  "  but  do  you 
love  William  Landon  ?  you  have  lately  appeared  much 
interested  in  Mr.  Vanderkemp,  and  I  believe  he  thinks  so. 
Indeed  Julia,  you  have  given  him  much  encouragement." 

"  Have  I  done  so,  Ida  ?  I  am  sure  I  did  not  intend  it,  I 
have  only  been  civil  to  hin." 

"You  carry  civility  much  farther  than  I  would  do,"  said 
Ida.  "To  take  the  affections,  without  giving  an  equivalent, 
is,  in  my  opinion,  the  worst  kind  of  robbery.  You  know, 
dear  Julia,  what  Mrs.  Newton  has  often  said  to  us  on  this 
subject." 

"  I  do  not  depend  so  much  on  Mrs.  Newton's  oracular 
wisdom,  as  formely,"  said  Julia,  "she  was  never  much 
conversant  with  the  beau  monde,  and  her  notions  are  now, 
of  course,  very  antiquated ;  the  truth  is,  we  must  all  learn 
the  world  for  ourselves." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Julia,  to  hear  you  depreciate  the  advice  of 
our  dear  Mrs.  Newton ;  were  I  exposed  as  you  are  to  the 
facinations  of  the  gay  world,  I  should  be  very  anxious  for 
the  counsels  of  wisdom.  Your  situation,  I  know,  obliges 
you  to  see  much  company.  Your  father  desires  to  have  his 


•  v    ; 

IDA    NORMAN.  239 

house  rendered  agreeable,  and  it  is  doubtless  difficult  for 
you  to  know,  exactly,  the  boundary  line  between  politeness, 
or  that  benevolence  of  feeling  which  desires  to  make  all 
happy,  and  a  manner  which  inspires  expectations  only  to 
be  disappointed,  and,  of  course,  creates  misery — but  the 
affections  of  the  heart,  dear  Julia,  should  never  be  trifled 
with." 

Julia  Selby  looked  at  Ida,  as  she  spoke,  the  rich  carna- 
tion mantling  her  cheeks,  and  her  full  eyes  beaming  with 
the  lustre  of  intelligence  and  virtue,  her  dark  hair  had  fal- 
len from  her  comb,  and  hung  down  her  shoulders  and 
partly  over  her  bust,  beautifully  contrasting  with  the  pure 
whiteness  of  her  finely  turned  neck.  Julia  felt  that  it  was 
impossible  not  to  admire  Ida  Norman,  and  she  asked  her- 
self whether  it  were  likely  William  Landon  would  give  the 
preference  to  her,  when  beloved  by  one  so  fair  and  gifted. 
She  was  conscious  that  it  would  be  far  more  noble  for  her 
to  suffer  the  course  of  the  affection,  which  she  believed  did 
exist  between  Landon  and  Ida,  to  run  on  smoothly  and 
tranquilly,  than  to  attempt  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  for- 
mer to  herself.  But  vanity  had  now  become  Julia  Selby's 
ruling  principle,  and  she  turned  away  from  the  monitions 
of  conscience,  not  exactly  resolved  to  act  an  unworthy 
part,  but  yet  not  firmly  determined  to  follow  in  the  path  of 
duty. 

At  the  breakfast  table,  Mr.  Selby  announced  to  his  daugh- 
..  ter,  that  he  had  engaged  Mr.  Landon  to  dine  with  them  on 
that  day,  in  company  with  some  foreigners  and  strangers 
of  distinction,  and  he  hoped  the  ladies  would  look  their 
prettiest,  and  behave  their  best.  Julia  appeared  quite  de- 
lighted at  this  information ;  and  it  was  evident  to  Ida  that 
she  had  requested  her  father  to  make  the  dinner  party.  Ida 
heard  the  intelligence  with  some  surprise ;  that  on  the  very 
day  after  his  arrival,  Landon  should  leave  his  mother  to 
dine  away  from  home,  seemed  almost  unnatural ;  and  she 


240  IDA    NORMAN. 

considered  this  another  evidence  that  he  was  particularly 
interested  in  the  Selbys,  or  at  least,  in  one  of  them. 

Mr.  Selby  retired  from  the  breakfast-room,  leaving  the 
two  young  ladies  at  table.  Julia,  in  a  reverie,  sat  balancing 
her  spoon  on  the  edge  of  her  cup ;  Ida  reflected,  and  resolved. 

"Julia,"  said  she,  "  I  must  ask  the  favor  of  your  carriage 
to  take  me  to  the  Hall  this  morning,  I  have  already  made 
my  visit  longer,  than  is  consistent  with  my  duties. 

"  Oh,  indeed,  Ida,"  said  Julia,  scarcely  dissembling  her 
satisfaction,  "  do  not  think  of  going  to  day,  when  I  shall 
have  so  many  gentlemen  to  entertain.  I  am  sorry  you  think 
you  must  go,  but  if  you  must,  I  will  order  the  carriage, — at 
what  time,  dear  Ida,  will  you  go  ?" 

"  I  should  like  to  go  very  soon,  Julia,  if  convenient." 

"  Have  you  any  message  Ida,  to  leave  for  Mr.  Landon, 
if  he  should  inquire  after  you  ?" 

"None,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Come  again  soon,"  said  Julia,  "  and  give  my  best  love 
to  all  the  good  friends  at  the  Hall,  and  to  Laura  when  you 
see  her ;  I  am  so  sorry  you  do  not  stay  to  this  dinner." 

With  a  swelling  heart  Ida  took  leave  of  the  friend  whom 
she  had  fondly  loved  from  her  childhood,  but  whose  char- 
acter seemed  to  have  undergone  a  change.  She  saw  her 
determined  to  push  her  advantages  to  the  utmost,  regardless 
of  the  wounds  she  might  inflict  on  the  hearts  of  others. 
She  believed,  that  dazzled  by  Mr.  Selby's  wealth,  and  the 
high  rank  which  Julia  held  in  fashionable  society,  William 
Landon  was  about  to  offer  up  his  heart  on  the  altar  of  ambi- 
tion. "  Both  friends,"  thought  Ida,  "  must  be  lost  to  me ; 
for  if  I  see  them  act  unworthily,  how  can  I  esteem  or  love 
either  of  them  ?" 


IDA    NORMAN.  241 


CHAPTER  X. 

IDA     NORMAN     FINDS,    IN     DUTY,    BALM      FOR     A     WOUNDED 

SPIRIT. HER     UNEXPECTED     REMOVAL    FROM     SCIENCE 

HALL. 

IDA  soon  received  the  warm  embraces  of  Mrs.  Newton, 
and  her  numerous  friends  at  the  Hall.  All  pressed  around 
her,  anxious  to  hear  every  word,  and  see  every  look. 
"  Here"  thought  Ida,  "  is  love  without  dissimulation,  warm 
and  pure.  Here  is  my  home ;  here  I  am  happy  in  the  ful- 
filment of  duty — oh,  why  should  my  thoughts  and  affections 
ever  stray  beyond  this  resting  place !" 

Laura's  absence  was  the  less  regretted  by  Ida  at  this  time, 
as  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  have  avoided  speaking  to 
her  upon  the  subject  which  agitated  her  mind.  She  re- 
solved to  communicate  to  no  one  the  trials  of  her  heart, 
but  to  govern  her  feelings ;  and  to  seek  for  happiness  in 
doing  good  to  others. 

Little  Rosa  Lansing  pushed  her  way,  until  she  had  re- 
ceived her  kiss,  and  seated  herself  on  a  low  tabouret  by  Ida's 
side.  "  We  are  all  so  lonesome  when  you  are  gone,  Miss 
Ida,"  said  she,  "  why  do  you  go  away  ?  Miss  Landon  has 
gone,  and  the  girls  say,  she  is  going  to  be  married  to  your 
brother.  We  all  like  him,  but  we  want  her  to  stay  with  us. 
You  will  not  go  and  be  married  too,  Miss  Ida,  will  ytfu  ?" 

"  Oh  Miss  Ida,"  said  several  at  once,  "  you  must  not  leave 
us ;  I  am  sure  you  love  us,  and  if  Miss  Laura  goes,  will  stay 
with  us." 

The  simple  love  of  the  school  girls ;  the  affection,  as  of 

elder  sisters,  of  her  dear  friends,  Miss  Went  worth  and  Miss 

Milburn,  and  the  deep  maternal  regard  of  Mrs.  Newton,  all 

gushed  forth  at  the  moment  when   she  needed  soothing 

21 


242  IDA     NORMAW. 

influences,  and  her  heart  was  filled  with  a  sense  of  the 
blessings  bestowed  upon  her. 

"  Here,"  thought  she,  "  I  am  shielded  from  the  tempta- 
tions which  constantly  surround  Julia  Selby,  amid  the  gay 
scenes  of  her  life.  In  her  situation,  I  might  enjoy  the 
triumphs  of  vanity  as  she  does,  and  seek  for  new  aliment 
to  feed  that  ever  restless  passion.  I  am  thankful  for  my 
lot,  and  will  seek  to  enjoy  its  many  blessings,  and  to  im- 
prove its  many  advantages." 

Ida  was  now  seen  moving  about  the  house  in  various 
directions,  observing  where  she  could  be  most  useful,  and 
applying  herself  to  any,  and  every  duty,  which  presented. 
Constant  occupation  soon  calmed  her  spirits,  and  when 
Louis  came,  in  the  evening,  to  see  her,  he  thought  she  had 
never  appeared  more  happy. 

He  spoke  much  of  William  Landon,  and  of  his  interest- 
ing account  of  their  father.  "  He  says  Ida,  that  he  is  not 
older  in  appearance,  than  Mr.  Ashburn,  that  his  countenance 
is  calm  and  benign,  and  his  manners  mild  and  winning; 
though,  at  times,  he  relapses  into  deep  sadness.  But  who 
can  wonder  at  this  ?  We  will  devote  ourselves  to  him,  my 
sister,  when  he  comes ;  and  with  the  greater  tenderness,  for 
the  unhappy  events  in  his  life  which  have  kept  him  in 
banishment  from  his  country  and  his  family.  It  is  well  he 
did  not  come  in  the  ship  with  Landon,  for  1  have  now  a  plan 
in  my  head,  in  the  execution  of  which,  I  shall  want  your 
aid ; — and  this  plan  is,  to  receive  him  in  his  own  house." 

"'What  can  you  mean,  Louis  r" 

"You  women,  Ida,  do  not  understand  much  about  law 
matters,  and  so  I  have  not  troubled  you  with  what  has 
been  brewing, — but  you  must  know  that  Mr.  Ashburn  put 
me  in  the  way  of  finding  out  a  great  piece  of  villainy, 
practised  by  one  Mordecai,  an  old  miser,  from  whom  our 
father  had  borrowed  large  sums  of  money,  and  mortgaged 
property,  worth  at  that  time  five  times  the  amount,  and 


IDA   NORMAN.  243 

which,  by  a  sudden  rise  in  value,  it  became  a  great  object 
to  obtain.  In  a  manner  as  secret  as  possible,  though  he 
pretended  to  some  legal  formality,  Mordecai  got  up  an 
auction  sale,  and  bid  off  the  estate.  The  question  of  the 
legality  of  this  transaction,  will  be  tried  at  our  next  court ; 
I  hope,  dear  sister,  to  be  able  to  obtain  justice,  and  if  so, 
my  father  on  his  return,  will  find  himself  in  possession  of 
a  princely  fortune." 

Ida  had  listened  with  deep  interest  to  this  statement ;  for 
her  fathers  sake,  and  that  his  name  might  be  freed  from  all 
disgrace,  far  more  than  any  interest  of  her  own,  she  hoped 
that  the  ardent  expectations  of  her  brother  might  be  realized  ; 
but  she  expressed  her  fears  that  he  was  too  sanguine. 

"No,  dear  sister,  I  have  searched  records,  and  have  studied 
the  case  night  and  day,  for  the  last  month ;  and  I  have  ob- 
tained unquestionable  evidence  that  the  sale  was  illegal ;  in 
which  case,  the  equity  of  redemption  reverts  to  the  mort- 
gager, or  to  his  heirs  and  representatives.  I  am  impatient 
for  the  trial  to  take  place,  though  aware  that  the  ablest 
counsel  which  money  can  procure,  is  arrayed  against  me. 

"Counsellor  Van  Deusen,  always  my  father's  bitter  enemy, 
is  one  of  the  lawyers  employed.  But  I  do  not  fear  them, 
my  cause  is  a  righteous  one,  and  will,  I  firmly  believe,  pre- 
vail. My  father's  private,  as  well  as  his  political  character, 
will  doubtless  be  assailed ;  he  will  be  called  a  defaulter  to 
the  government;  but  thanks  to  Landon's  friendship,  I  shall 
be  able  to  announce  that  he  will  soon  be  here,  to  answer 
for  himself." 

"  Oh  Louis,  may  you  indeed  be  able  to  achieve  the  vic- 
tory you  aspire  to. — But  you  said  something  of  receiving 
our  father  in  his  own  house,  what  did  you  mean  by  that  r" 

"Yes,  Ida,  I  did  say  so, — and  I  know  how  happy  you 
will  be  to  learn  that  I  have  purchased  our  old  home, 
that  house  in  Broadway,  where  we  spent  our  childhood." 

"Is    it   possible,  dear,  dear  Louis,  that  you   was   able 


244  IDA    NORMAN. 

to  buy  so  expensive  a  house,  or  have  you  incurred  a 
debt?" 

"  No,  Ida,  every  dollar  is  paid ;  but  I  have  accepted  from 
my  more  than  father,  Mr.  Ashburn,  some  assistance  to  ena- 
ble me  to  do  it; — it  was  his  own  proposition,  and  I  have 
learned  how  happy  it  makes  him  to  confer  favors.  He  has 
said  that  his  fortune  should  be  mine ;  but  may  he  live 
long  to  enjoy  it,  and  the  luxury  of  doing  good,  which  he 
accomplishes  with  a  grace  peculiar  to  himself.  Yes,  Ida,  I 
have  come  here  this  very  night,  to  ask  you  to  go,  to-morrow, 
and  assist  me  with  your  taste  in  furnishing  the  house ;  for 
we  have  no  time  to  lose,  as  we  may  expect  our  father  by 
the  next  ship  from  England.  Come  Ida,  let  us  seek  our 
ever  kind  friend,  Mrs.  Newton.  She  will  be  sorry  to  lose 
you,  but  like  Mr.  Ashburn,  she  thinks  more  of  the  happi- 
ness of  others  than  her  own." 

The  heart  of  Mrs.  Newton  was  filled  with  a  variety  of 
emotions  as  Louis  informed  her  of  the  expected  trial  for 
the  recovering  of  an  immense  estate ;  the  purchase,  which, 
with  Mr.  Ashburn's  help,  he  had  made  of  the  home  of  their 
childhood ;  and  finally,  that  he  was  desirous  to  take  Ida 
there  the  following  day,  that  every  thing  might  be  arranged, 
as  soon  as  possible^  for  their  father's  reception. 

Mrs.  Newton  admired  the  energy  of  Louis,  the  penetra- 
tion he  had  discovered  in  ferreting  out  a  dishonest  transac- 
tion, and  the  confidence  in  his  own  powers  exhibited  in 
attempting,  alone,  to  oppose  counsel  of  great  experience 
and  influence.  She  appreciated  the  tenderness  and  delicacy 
shewn  in  the  plan  of  receiving  their  father  in  the  house 
where  they  had  formerly  lived  ; — but  to  part  with  Ida  forever! 
to  feel  that  she  must  now  leave  her,  who  had  stood  in  the 
place  of  a  parent,  for  one  who  had  abandoned  his  parental 
duties!  For  a  moment,  Mrs.  Newton's  heart  rebelled,  but 
her  noble  nature  triumphed ;  and  she  said,  clasping  Ida  to 
her  bosom,  "yes,  my  child,  you  must  go;  duty  calls  you — 


.IDA    NORMAN.  245 

and  I  thank  our  Father  in  Heaven,  that  my  thoughts  can 
follow  you,  in  whatever  condition  of  life  you  may  hereafter 
be  placed,  without  fear  of  your  failure  to  act  as  a  woman  of 
principle,  and  a  Christian." 

But  Mrs.  Newton  wept,  and  Ida  sobbed  aloud ;  Louis 
would  not  interrupt  a  scene  so  touching,  and  silently  with- 
drew, telling  a  servant  to  inform  Miss  Norman  that  he 
should  call  for  her  at  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

The  scene  of  Ida  Norman's  departure  from  Science  Hall, 
was  one  of  deep  interest.  Since  she  first  entered  its  pre- 
cincts, what  a  change  had  taken  place  in  her  character!  Not 
more  marked,  was  the  physical  change  from  childhood  to 
womanhood,  than  the  moral  transformation  which  a  judicious 
training  under  religious  influences,  had  produced. 

Trials  of  various  kinds  had  aided  in  the  work ;  indeed, 
without  them,  no  deep  and  lasting  impression  upon  the 
mind  might  have  been  produced  by  all  the  care  that  had 
been  bestowed. 

Ida  Norman  was  now  a  woman  of  high  moral  worth, 
with  a  well  disciplined  mind,  a  heart  generous  and  self- 
devoted,  and  a  resolution  capable  of  performing  what  her 
conscience  dictated. 

Mrs.  Newton  was  no  longer  in  the  prime  of  life;  the 
lustre  of  her  eye  had  somewhat  faded,  her  hair  shewed  an 
intermingling  of  silvery  threads,  and  her  step  was  less  elastic, 
than  when  she  had  once  been  the  terror  and  dread  of  the 
wilful  and  enraged,  little  Ida.  But  Mrs.  Newton  was  even 
more  lovely,  than  in  the  prime  of  her  beauty  and  elegance ; 
the  light  of  holiness  illumined  her  countenance,  and  com- 
munion with  the  spiritual  world,  had  added  dignity  and 
elevation  to  her  manner — if  there  was  in  her  appearance 
less  command,  there  was  more  of  sweetness  and  benignity. 

Scarcely  could  Ida  go  through  the  painful  task  of  tearing 
herself  from   her  dear  pupils,  the   teachers   with  whom, 
after  being  their  pupil,  she  had  been  associated  in  the  same 
21* 


246 


IDA    NORMAN. 


duties  and  responsibilities,  and  whose  sympathies  she  had 
ever  found  ready  to  gush  forth  for  her,  on  all  occasions  of 
sorrow,  or  of  joy. 

Louis  Norman,  as  he  witnessed  the  scene  of  Ida's  depar- 
ture, thought  of  the  time  he  accompanied  his  parents  to  the 
Hall ;  of  the  sweet  little  girl,  whom,  from  the  beautiful  and 
kind  expression  of  her  countenance,  he  pointed  out  to  Ida, 
among  a  group  of  others,  as  a  harbinger  of  good;  and  a 
proud  consciousness  of  the  relation  in  which  that  little  girl 
now  stood  to  him,  passed  through  his  mind.  That  was  the 
first  great  era  in  his  own,  and  his  sister's  life ;  how  much 
had  since  occurred  to  improve  and  discipline  their  characters ! 

Ida  tore  herself  away  from  her  more  than  mother,  and 
the  dear  home  of  so  many  years ; — and  Science  Hall,  bereft 
of  its  two  loveliest  ornaments,  seemed,  for  a  time,  deserted. 
Mrs.  Newton,  in  her  care  to  restore  cheerfulness  to  the 
household,  seemed,  at  first,  to  have  forgotten  her  own  loss ; 
but  when  the  scene  had,  in  a  degree,  faded  away  from  the 
minds  of  others,  her  thoughts  were  of  that  beloved  one, 
whom  she  had,  so  long,  looked  upon  as  the  stay  and  prop  of 
her  declining  years. 

Ida  had  little  time  for  the  indulgence  of  vain  regrets  for 
those  she  left ; — Louis,  always  energetic,  was  not  long  in 
driving  to  the  city ;  and  they  soon  found  themselves  at  the 
door  of  their  former  residence. 

What  thrilling  associations  were  awakened,  on  entering 
those  apartments,  connected  with  the  scenes  of  their  early 
life !  At  first,  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that  they  had,  indeed, 
returned  to  the  home  of  their  childhood.  But  the  elaborate 
carving  of  the  cornices,  the  exquisite  finishing  of  the  wain- 
scoting, the  Corinthian  colonnade,  pilasters,  and  mantels  of 
Italian  marble;  the  prospect  from  the  windows,  of  shady 
park  and  smooth  lawn  upon  one  side,  and  lofty  edifices  on 
another;  all  these,  gradually  remembered,  assisted  the 
imagination  to  settle  down  into  reality.  The  room  in 


IDA   NORMAN.  247 

which  the  family  had  usually  sat,  was  the  only  furnished 
one  •,  Louis  had  ordered  a  piano  to  be  placed  exactly  where 
Ida's  had  formerly  stood.  He  had  selected  all  the  furniture 
of  the  room,  to  resemble,  as  nearly  as  possible,  that  of 
former  years,  even  to  the  low  ottomans,  the  sofas  and  arm 
chairs. 

Ida's  feelings  became  overwhelming,  she  could  no  longer 
refrain  from  tears,  and  sank  weeping  upon  a  sofa. 

Louis  walked  the  room  trying  to  dry  his  eyes  with  his 
handkerchief;  at  length,  seating  himself  by  her  side,  he 
said: 

"Do  you  remember,  sister,  a  scene  which  occurred  in 
this  room,  a  short  time  before  our  family  were  separated  ? 
It  was  after  tea,  and  the  lights  had  been  just  brought  in ; 
you  were  at  the  piano  drumming  away  in  a  careless  manner, 
instead  of  practising  your  lessons;  and  I,  who  had  just 
come  into  the  room,  began  to  chide  you  harshly,  as  was  too 
common  in  those  days.  Our  dear  mother,  who  was  sitting 
just  where  you  now  are,  called  us  to  her,  and  we  sat  down 
by  her  side,  on  two  low  seats,  like  these  before  us.  She 
kindly  embraced  us,  begging  that  we  would  always  be 
affectionate  to  each  other,  and  said  we  should  soon  be 
separated,  and,  perhaps,  might  never  live  together  again. 
1  have  often  thought  of  that  scene,  it  was  deeply  impressed 
upon  my  mind.  Our  father  left  the  papers  with  which  he 
had  been  engrossed,  and  came  to  us ;  extending  his  arms 
around  us,  he  appeared  touched  with  tender  emotions,  and 
the  angel  of  love  seemed,  for  a  brief  space,  to  hover  over 
our  little  circle.  Ida,  have  1  since  then  been  an  affectionate 
brother,  and  fulfilled  the  wishes  of  our  departed  mother?" 
"Most  faithfully,  dear  Louis,  have  you  performed  your 
duties ;  much  better,  I  fear,  than  I  have  mine ;  you  have 
been,  not  only  all  that  a  brother  should  be,  but  have  watched 
over  my  welfare  with  a  parent's  interest.  I  remember  well, 
the  scene  you  speak  of;  something  was  said  about  my 


248  IDA    NORMAN. 

going  to  school ;  the  next  morning,  mama  took  me  shopping 
with  her,  to  fit  me  out,  and  we  went  to  Mrs.  Landon's  to 
get  our  sewing  done.  Our  poor  mother  was  doubtless  very 
extravagant;  though  I  was  then  young,  I  remember  she 
owed  a  debt  to  Mrs.  Landon  that  she  could  not  pay, 
though  she  had  that  morning  expended  a  great  deal  of  money 
for  things  which  were  unnecessary;  part  of  which,  I  prevailed 
on  her  to  return  to  the  shop-keeper  of  whom  she  had 
bought  them,  and  to  give  Mrs.  Landon  an  order  for  their 
amount.  It  now  seems  all  a  dream ;  so  many  unexpected 
events  have  since  occurred.  I  was  always  much  interested 
in  the  Landons;  but  1  thought  not  then,  that  the  sweet 
little  flaxen-haired  Laura  would  be  my  sister." 

"And  William  too  Ida,  I  think  you  are  not  indifferent  to 
him ;  he  is  certainly  deserving " 

"Cease,  my  dear  brother,  do  not  speak  to  me  of  Mr. 
Landon ;  I  have  reasons  for  this  request,  which  I  may.  at 
some  future  time,  explain  to  you ;  but  as  you  love  me, 
Louis,  do  not  unnecessarily  bring  to  my  recollection  a 
person  whom  I  should  wish,  as  far  as  possible,  to  forget; — 
as  Laura's  brother,  as  your  friend,  as  entitled  to  our  gratitude 
for  his  services  in  seeking  for  our  dear  father,  I  honor  Mr. 
Landon,  and  hope  never  to  fail  in  becoming  respect  and 
attention  towards  him ;  but  never  think  or  speak  of  him, 
Louis,  as  one  who  will  ever  be  to  your  sister,  more  than 
a  friend." 

Louis  was  surprised  and  shocked  at  Ida's  earnest  and 
solemn  manner;  he  had  no  conception  of  the  cause  which 
had  so  changed  her  views  in  relation  to  Landon,  for  she  had 
never  before,  when  rallied  about  him,  appeared  displeased, 
or  grieved. 


IDA   NORMAN.  249 

CHAPTER  XI. 

LAW   TRIAL. — SCENES    IN  A  COURT-ROOM. THE    STRANGER. 

WHILE  Ida,  with  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Landon  and  Laura, 
is  engaged  in  purchasing  furniture,  and  setting  up  an  estab- 
lishment on  a  scale  of  comfort  and  even  elegance,  though 
far  from  the  lavish  extravagance  of  former  grandeur ;  we  will 
follow  Louis  to  the  halls  of  justice  and  legal  science,  where 
the  important  cause  which  he  stated  to  Ida,  is  to  be  decided. 

Much  had  been  said  of  the  nature  of  the  transaction  which 
was  to  be  made  the  subject  of  investigation,  and  paragraphs, 
respecting  the  large  amount  of  property  in  question,  had 
been  circulated  in  the  newspapers  throughout  the  country. 
Mr.  Ashburn,  as  the  time  for  the  trial  drew  near,  became 
restless  and  uneasy ;  he  was  often  seen  to  whisper  to  him- 
self, sometimes  shaking  his  head  as  if  contradicting  a  state- 
ment, and  then  smiling  as  if  confirming  some  assertion. 
Louis  was  grave  and  abstracted,  and  for  several  nights  before 
the  trial,  scarcely  closed  his  eyes  to  sleep ;  so  deeply  was 
he  engaged  in  preparation  for  the  important  event. 

The  day  arrived,  and  the  case  was  called  ;  but  the  counsel 
for  the  defendant  plead  an  adjournment.  Louis  Norman 
objected  to  such  a  proceeding,  urging  that  justice  called 
loudly  for  redress,  in  a  case  where  it  had  so  long  slumbered. 
The  Judge  ordered  that  the  trial  should  proceed.  The 
spacious  hall,  where  the  court  held  its  sittings,  was  densely 
crowded  with  persons  of  all  classes  and  descriptions,  so 
great  was  the  interest  which  the  importance  of  the  cause 
had  excited.  Among  the  crowd  was  seen  a  stranger,  who, 
from  his  costume,  appeared  to  be  a  foreigner;  and  from 
his  lofty  air,  and  manner,  a  person  of  distinction.  He  sat 
near  a  pillar,  somewhat  distant  from  the  bar,  though  near 


250  IDA    NORMAN. 

enough  to  hear  distinctly;  and  with  his  Spanish  cloak 
wrapped  closely  around  him,  he  listened  with  deep  attention 
to  the  proceedings. 

The  witnesses  being  called,  the  counsel  for  the  defend- 
ant brought  forward  a  man,  who,  being  duly  sworn,  testified 
that  he  was  the  auctioneer  who  officiated  at  the  sale  of  the 
property  in  the  upper  part  of  Broadway,  which  had  been 
mortgaged  by  James  Livingston  Norman  to  Israel  Mordecai; 
and  that  no  purchaser  having  appeared,  who  would  give  as 
much,  as  the  amount  of  the  mortgage,  he  had  struck  off  the 
property  to  the  mortgagee.  On  being  cross-questioned  by 
Louis  Norman,  with  respect  to  any  public  advertisement  of 
the  mortgagee's  intention  to  foreclose  the  mortgage,  the  wit- 
ness said,  that  all  the  requisitions  of  the  law  had  doubtless 
been  strictly  complied  with ;  that  due  notice  was  publicly 
given  before  the  time  of  sale,  though  the  particular  news- 
papers in  which  the  advertisements  appeared,  he  did  not 
recollect. 

The  defendant's  counsel  then  brought  forward  the  notes, 
bonds  and  mortgages,  with  the  deeds  which  had  been  duly 
assigned  to  Israel  Mordecai  by  the  auctioneer,  professing  to 
act  under  direction  of  the  Court  of  Chancery.  The  cause 
being  submitted  for  argument,  the  junior  counsel  for  the 
defendant,  Simon  Van  Deusen,  Esq.,  arose  and  addressed 
the  court 

"  May  it  please  your  honors,  I  appear  here  at  this  time, 
to  defend  my  client  against  a  base  attempt  to  wrest  from  him 
an  estate,  of  which,  he  became  possessed  in  due  course  of 
law  and  equity;  and  in  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  which  he 
has  remained,  until  a  briefless  young  lawyer,  prowling  about 
for  prey,  fastens  upon  him  for  a  victim,  seeking  to  take  from 
him  that  which  he  had  honestly  and  honorably  acquired, 
and  basely  requiting  a  man  who  had  conferred  repeated  fa- 
vors upon  his  father. 

"  The  plaintiff  it  seems,  for  want  of  honorable  business, 


IDA   NORMAN.  251 

has  rummaged  among  files  of  old  papers,  eager  to  catch  at 
some  trifling  informality  which  might,  if  artfully  brought 
forward  and  twisted  to  suit  his  purposes,  defeat  the  ends  of 
justice.  May  it  please  your  honors  to  consider  what,  and 
who,  is  the  plaintiff  in  this  case ;  a  young  lawyer  with  no- 
thing to  lose,  and  every  thing  to  gain,  trusting  to  the  power 
of  his  eloquence,  to  '  make  the  worse  appear  the  better  side,' 
engaging  in  this  cause  as  he  would  have  bought  a  lottery 
ticket,  where,  though  a  thousand  chances  were  against  him, 
he  might  by  possibility  gain  something,  acting  upon  the 
principle  of  the  old  adage,  '  Nothing  venture,  nothing  have.1 
"I  am  the  last  man,  may  it  please  your  honors,  to  dis- 
courage virtuous  enterprise ;  but  bold  attempts  to  invade  the 
rights  of  others,  should  be  frowned  upon  by  every  patriotic 
citizen.  And  who  is  this  young  lawyer,  who  dares  appear 
as  counsel  in  his  own  case,  believing  that  he  can,  with  his 
sling  and  five  smooth  stones  taken  out  of  the  brook,  con- 
tend with,  and  overcome  a  Goliath  of  the  law  ?  (of  course,  not 
referring  to  myself,  but  to  my  honorable  colleague,  the  se- 
nior counsel,  whose  name  alone,  is  a  guarantee  of  thejustice 
of  the  cause).  Who,  I  say  is  this  young  lawyer  ?  I  need 
not  inform  your  honors  who  he  is ;  for  his  name  is  but  too 
well  known  in  a  country  which  was  defrauded  by  his  father. 
Louis  Livingston  Norman  is  the  son  of  a  man  who  once 
disgraced  this  bar,  and  rendered  his  name  infamous  by  his 
frauds  and  his  profligacy.  I  would  not  injure  the  young 
man ;  I  pity  his  condition ;  there  is  infamy  enough  attached 
to  his  name,  and  were  he  modest  and  unassuming,  he  would 
undoubtedly  feel  the  weight  of  his  father's  disgrace  pressing 
upon  him  ;  but  when,  with  unblushing  effrontery,  he  dares 
to  come  forward  and  invite  an  investigation  into  a  transac- 
tion with  which  the  father's  name  is  connected,  are  we  to 
be  withheld  by  motives  of  compassion  from  remarks  upon 
the  character  and  conduct  of  that  father!  The  son,  in  this 
transaction,  is  but  proving  himself  a  worthy  scion  of  a  de- 
generate stock. 


252  IDA   NORMAN. 

"  But  I  would  not  wander  from  the  subject  before  us — and 
may  it  please  your  honors,  I  will  briefly  state  the  case  under 
consideration.  Our  client,  the  venerable  Israel  Mordecai,  a 
man  known  as  ever  ready  to  give  assistance  to  the  needy, 
(of  course  requiring,  as  is  prudent,  proper  security,)  our 
client,  from  time  to  time,  furnished  James  Livingston  Nor- 
man, the  honest  father  of  this  modest  young  man,  with  large 
sums  of  money,  which,  in  addition  to  the  immense  amount 
plundered  from  the  public  funds,  were  spent  in  most  debas- 
ing licentiousness  in  a  foreign  country;  while  his  children, 
neglected  by  this  unnatural  parent,  were  left  to  the  charities 
of  strangers.  As  security  to  our  client  for  the  money  so 
generously  furnished,  the  said  Norman  mortgaged  to  him 
some  lots  of  land,  then  considered  of  small  value,  as  they 
were  situated  in  a  part  of  the  city  not  likely  to  become  pop- 
ulous. The  money  of  our  worthy  and  venerable  client, 
was  not  paid  •,  he  could  not  obtain  it  from  the  renegade,  who 
had  fled  from  justice  in  his  own  country;  yes,  fled  from 
justice^  under  the  cloak  of  office,  bestowed  upon  him  as  a 
compensation  for  the  dishonorable  and  wicked  means  he 
had  used,  to  help  into  power  men  who  were  unfit  for  office 
themselves,  and  who  made  use  of  power,  not  for  the  good 
of  the  country,  but  to  reward  those,  who  by  management 
and  intrigue  had  elevated  them. 

"When  our  client  found  he  could  not  obtain  his  money, 
what  could  he  do  but  resort  to  the  means  provided  by  the 
law  in  such  cases  ?  He  did  all  that  the  law  required ;  and  we 
challenge  our  opponent  to  prove  any  flaw,  whatever,  in  the 
procedings ; — obtaining  a  decree  from  the  proper  court  to 
foreclose  the  mortgage,  he  sold'  the  property  at  a  public  auc- 
tion for  the  benefit  of  the  mortgagee.  If  no  one  overbid  him, 
he  had  the  right  to  buy  the  property  himself — and  he  did 
buy  it.  Supposing  this  property  had  not  been  worth  enough 
to  pay  half  the  amount  of  the  money  advanced  by  our  client 
to  this  Livingston  Norman,  would  his  son,  do  your  honors 


IDA   NORMAN. 

suppose,  have  appeared  here  this  day,  to  claim  the  privilege 
of  making  up  the  loss  to  our  client  ?  But  now,  that  the 
property  is  known  to  be  valuable,  he  would  disturb  his  fa- 
ther's benefactor  in  the  peaceful  possession  of  that  which  in 
due  course  of  law,  has  become  his. 

"  We  do  not  wish  to  injure  the  feelings  of  the  young 
man,  but  this  attempt  to  repair  the  broken  fortunes  of  a  des- 
titute family,  by  endeavoring  to  wrest  property  from  the 
hands  of  an  honest  man,  seems  scarcely  better  than  high- 
way robbery  ;  and  the  certainty  that  in  thus  doing,  he  would 
bring  his  father's  name  before  an  incensed  and  outraged 
public,  heightens  the  audacity  of  the  attempt.  I  cannot  for 
a  moment  question  the  decision  of  the  court  in  this  case." 

The  stranger  in  the  Spanish  cloak, 

("  A  man  severe  he  was,  and  stern  to  view,") 

sat  unmoved  during  this  harangue,  with  knit  brow  and 
eyes  bent  sternly  upon  the  speaker  ;  but  when  Louis  arose, 
the  sternness  disappeared,  and  he  regarded  the  young  man 
with  looks  expressive  of  deep  anxiety  and  tender  interest. 
His  face  became  of  an  ashy  paleness,  he  sat  leaning  forward, 
motionless,  with  his  lips  slightly  parted,  and  his  breath 
suspended.  Then,  as  if  moved  by  a  sudden  thought,  he 
removed  partly  behind  the  pillar,  where  he  could  still  see 
the  speaker  without  being  himself  conspicuous,  and  drew 
his  cloak  so  as  partly  to  conceal  his  features. 

Louis  Norman  took  an  attitude  at  once  firm  and  graceful, 
and  began  his  argument  in  a  tone,  which  though  low,  was 
so  deep  and  distinct  as  to  find  an  echo  in  the  most  distant 
corner  of  the  spacious  hall. 

"May  it  please  your  honors,  I  appear  before  you  as  the 
plaintiff  in  this  case  :  as  the  legal  representative  of  my  father ; 
in  his  name  demanding  the  restoration  of  a  valuable  estate, 
which  I  assert  to  have  been  fraudulently  disposed  of  by  the 
mortgage  at  a  forced  or  pretended  sale,  and  without  regard 
22 


254  IDA    TfORMAW. 

to  the  legal  provisions  made  to  prevent  the  unjnst  appropri- 
ation of  mortgaged  property;  without  regard  to  the  equity 
of  redemption,  or  giving  to  others  disposed  to  purchase,  an 
opportunity  of  so  doing,  that  the  real  value  of  the  property 
might  be  obtained.  I  can  prove  to  your  honors,  that  at  the 
time  of  this  mock-auction-sale,  and  this  illegal  foreclosure 
of  the  mortgage  given  by  my  father,  James  Livingston  Nor- 
man, the  property  in  question  was  worth  fifty  fold  more 
than  the  sum  for  which  it  was  mortgaged ;  the  great  rise  in 
its  value  having  been  caused  by  the  laying  out  of  new 
streets  directly  through  the  land,  which,  in  consequence,  be- 
came eligible  for  building  lots.  The  fact  of  this  property, 
then  worth  some  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  being  struck 
off  to  the  mortgagee  for  ten  thousand  dollars,  is  prima 
facie  evidence  that  it  was  not  a  fair  and  open  transaction. 

"  Had  due  notice  been  given  of  intention  to  foreclose  the 
mortgage  on  this  property,  and  the  time  of  sale  duly  pub- 
lished, can  it  be  believed  that  no  bidders  would  have  ap- 
peared ?  Your  honors  will  at  once  perceive  that  such  could 
not  have  been  the  case.  On  the  defendant  then,  must  rest 
the  burden  of  proof;  let  him  show  the  decree  of  court 
tinder  which  the  mortgage  was  foreclosed,  and  prove  that 
he  fulfilled  the  requisitions  of  the  law.  He  has,  indeed, 
produced  one  witness  who  affirms  that  he  was  employed 
as  an  auctioneer;  and  that  as  no  one  bid  above  the  defend- 
ant, he  struck  off  the  property  to  him ;  but  he  gives  no 
dates,  he  refers  to  no  records  of  the  court,  and  he  can  shew 
no  advertisement  previous  to  the  time  of  sale.  His  vague 
recollection  that  there  were  such  advertisements,  can  surely 
have  no  weight  with  your  honors. — I  challenge  our  oppo- 
nents to  produce  the  public  records,  the  advertisement,  and 
the  decree  of  court  authorizing  their  proceedings — if  there 
are  such,  they  have  eluded  my  strictest  search  and  vigilance. 

"•  I  would  have  the  defendant  paid,  to  the  full  value  of  the 
notes  on  which  the  mortgage  is  predicated,  with  compound 


IDA    NORMAN.  255 

interest  on  the  same;  and  I  claim,  as  the  legal  representative 
of  my  father,  the  equity  of  redemption.  I  stand  ready  at 
this  moment  to  discharge  the  debt;  and  I  ask  justice  for 
myself,  or  rather  for  my  father,  in  whose  name  I  have 
brought  this  suit." 

Thus  far,  Louis  had  proceeded,  stating  the  various  points 
of  his  argument  in  a  cool  and  deliberate  manner,  as  if 
passionless,  he  had  been  moved  by  intellect  alone.  He 
paused  a  moment — and  throwing  off  the  restraint  he  had 
imposed  upon  his  feelings,  and  the  calmness  he  had  as- 
sumed, he  proceeded  in  a  more  impassioned  manner. 

"May  it  please  your  honors,  I  have  hitherto  spoken  as  a 
lawyer  advocating  a  cause;  allow  me  now  to  speak  as  a 
son.  I  blush  that  the  counsel  for  the  defendant  should  have 
brought  into  this  case,  allusions  to  private  character,  which 
were  wholly  irrelevant  to  the  subject  under  consideration. 

"Your  honors  are  not  sitting  in  judgment  on  the  private 
character  of  my  father;  upon  my  own  motives,  or  the  neces- 
sities of  my  condition ;  these  have  no  connection  whatever, 
with  the  justice,  or  injustice,  of  the  transaction  which  is 
here  the  object  of  investigation. 

"  It  is  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  law,  that  its  operation  is 
just  and  equal;  that  it  is  no  respecter  of  persons!  I  ac- 
knowledge, may  it  please  your  honors,  that  I  am  a  young 
lawyer.  May  J  never  become  experienced  in  that  butchery 
of  the  heart,  which  is  but  too  often  the  disgrace  of  the  pro- 
fession !  I  have  no  ambition  to  become  a  'Goliath  of  the 
law,'  defying  all  principles  of  gentlemanly  courtesy,  and 
trampling  under  foot  those  who  dare  to  ask  for  justice, 
unless  they  happen  to  be  their  own  clients.  Were  such  a 
course  of  practice  inherent  to  the  profession,  I  would  scatter 
my  legal  diploma  to  the  winds,  and  taking  my  axe  and 
spade  upon  my  shoulder,  enter  the  wild  regions  of  the  west, 
and  become  a  hewer  of  wood,  and  a  tiller  of  the  ground. 

"But  indulge  me  a  moment  in  speaking  of  my  father !    In 


256  IDA   NORMAN. 

this  place  his  voice  was  often  raised  to  defend  the  innocent ; 
in  this  place  the  power  of  his  eloquence  and  genius  has  been 
felt  and  acknowledged.  But  human  nature  is  imperfect,  my 
father  was  a  man,  and  he  erred ;  the  envious  and  malicious 
seized  upon  circumstances  which  appeared  against  him,  and 
industriously  circulated  reports  calculated  to  wound  and 
harrass  his  feelings.  The  ruin  of  his  fortune,  which  they 
predicted,  was,  in  part,  brought  about  by  their  very  predic- 
tions. His  country  became  hateful  to  him,  and  he  resolved 
to  abandon  it;  but  he  is  _even  now  on  his  return,  and 
wherein  he  may  have  injured  any,  he  and  his  son,  will  stand 
ready  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  make  full  restitution." 

As  Louis  Norman  sat  down,  a  hum  of  approbation  burst 
forth  from  the  audience,  and  the  judges  looked  complacently 
upon  each  other.  The  stranger's  face  was  buried  in  the 
folds  of  his  cloak. 

There  was  much  consultation  between  the  defendant  and 
his  counsel,  while  Louis  was  speaking,  and  when  he  had 
closed,  the  senior  counsel  for  the  defendant  addressed  the 
court. 

"May  it  please  your  honors,  our  opponent  asks  more 
proof  of  the  publicity  V>f  the  auction  sale  of  the  property 
contested.  We  had  supposed  the  proof  adduced  would  be 
considered  as  sufficient,  but  are  willing  to  gratify  the  plain- 
tiff in  his  wish  for  more  proof.  We  desire  that  a  witness 
may  be  sworn,  who  will  testify  that  he  was  present  at  the 
auction,  that  he  himself  bid  up  to  nine  thousand  and  nine 
hundred  dollars ;  that  many,  present,  made  bids,  but  none 
went  so  high  as  our  client,  to  whom  the  property  in  due 
form,  was  ma/le  over  in  fee-simple.  The  witness  is  a  re- 
spectable tradesman  in  our  city,  and  a  man  of  unquestionable 
veracity.  He  will  furthermore  testify,  that  to  his  personal 
knowledge,  there  appeared  in  several  newspapers  of  that 
period,  advertisements  respecting  the  foreclosure  of  the 
mortgage,  and  the  time  of  the  sale," 


IDA    NORMAN.  257 

Looks  of  surprise  were  interchanged  between  the  judges, 
and  many  others  present.  Mr.  Ashburn,  whose  feelings  had 
been  raised  to  the  highest  pitch  of  excitement,  by  what  he 
considered  the  triumphant  plea  of  Louis,  was  evidently 
uneasy.  Louis  awaited  the  appearance  of  the  witness  in  a 
state  of  painful  suspense ;  victory  which  had  seemed  within 
his  grasp,  now  appeared  retreating.  The  stranger  looked 
up,  his  lips  were  compressed,  and  his  stern  countenance 
became  still  more  severe. 

The  defendant  and  his  counsel  wore  an  air  of  triumph, 
as  their  new  witness  went  upon  the  stand.  Mr.  Ashburn. 
and  Louis  looked  at  the  witness,  and  then,  with  a  peculiar 
expression,  at  each  other. 

With  circumstantial  minuteness,  the  witness  related  the 
particulars  respecting  the  auction  sale.  It  was  very  much 
crowded,  he  said,  he  had  scarcely  ever  known  so  many 
persons  collected  on  such  an  occasion.  The  auctioneer 
was  very  slow  in  his  proceedings ;  every  one  that  wished, 
had  a  chance  to  bid.  Mr.  Mordecai  appeared  anxious  to  get 
the  property  out  of  his  hands.  He  heard  him  say,  that  all 
he  wished  for  was  the  money  he  had  lent  Mr.  Norman,  for 
he  owned  more  real  estate,  now,  than  he  wanted.  But  the 
auctioneer,  whom  he  remembered  in  the  witness  who  had 
that  day  testified,  did,  at  length,  knock  off  the  property  to 
Mr.  Mordecai.  He  heard  several  say,  the  property  was  not 
worth  the  amount  of  the  mortgage.  He  remembered  about 
the  decree  of  the  court  under  which  the  sale  was  made,  and 
that  notices  of  the  foreclosure  and  the  time  of  sale  were 
published  in  several  papers; — it  was  a  newspaper  advertise- 
ment which  attracted  his  attention,  and  induced  him  to  go 
to  the  auction. 

Mr.  Ashburn  addressed  the  court,  "may  it  please  your 
honors,  we  impeach  the  veracity  of  this  witness,  and  I 
desire  to  testify  under  oath  to  my  knowledge  of  his  char- 
acter." 

22* 


258  IDA    NORMAN. 

Mr.  Ashburn  being  duly  sworn,  related  the  story  of  the 
seizure  of  Louis'  watch  and  diamonds,  by  this  Perseverance 
Fox, — the  falsehoods  which  he  heard  him  utter  to  some 
customers  with  whom  he  was  trying  to  make  sale  of 
Louis  Norman's  property;  and  that  when  he  found  himself 
detected,  and  that  Louis  had  a  protector,  he  gave  up  the 
articles,  pretending  he  was  only  playing  a  trick  for  amuse- 
ment. 

This  testimony  of  Mr.  Ashburn,  himself  now  a  judge  in 
another  court,  not  only  invalidated  that  of  the  witness ;  but 
the  attempt  to  bring  forward  such  a  tool,  evidently  bribed  to 
perjury,  excited  general  indignation ;  and  after  a  moment's 
consultation,  among  the  judges,  the  presiding  judge  gave 
sentence  in  favor  of  the  plaintiff. 

The  stranger  laid  aside  his  cloak ;  he  arose  and  walked 
within  the  bar,  where  Louis  stood  receiving  the  congratula- 
tions of  his  friends.  He  looked  at  Louis,  their  eyes  met, — 
the  exclamations,  "my  son!"  "my  father!"  were  heard, 
and  MR.  NORMAN  stood  confessed,  among  his  friends,  and 
his  enemies. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

CAUSE  OF  MR.  NORMAN's  UNEXPECTED  ARRIVAL. A  FA- 

THER'S  PRIDE  IN  HIS   SON. — MR.  NORMAN  AT  HOME. 

THE  reappearance  of  Livingston  Norman  in  America, 
excited  much  remark.  The  few  who  had  remained  faithful 
in  their  friendship  for  him,  and  had  been  disposed  to  regard 
his  conduct  in  the  most  charitable  light,  took  him  by  the 
hand  with  no  unequivocal  demonstrations  of  joy.  To  his 
enemies,  and  they  were  many,  his  re-appearance  was  an  «n- 


IDA    NORMAN.  259 

expected  and  an  undesired  event ;  and  many,  who  knew  of 
his  conduct,  but  by  general  report,  regarded  his  return  as  a 
bold  defiance  of  public  opinion. 

The  passage  of  the  ship  in  which  Mr.  Norman  had 
sailed  from  England,  had  been  shorter  by  some  days,  than 
was  usual.  Louis,  deeply  occupied  in  preparing  for  the 
expected  trial,  had  not  heard  of  the  arrival  of  the  ship  in 
port,  which  had  been  announced  but  the  day  previously  to 
the  trial  in  the  case  of  Norman  vs.  Mordecai. 

Disappointed  at  not  being  met  in  the  harbor  by  Landon 
and  his  son,  and  not  knowing  where  to  find  either,  Mr. 
Norman,  had  ordered  a  hackney-coach  to  take  him  to  a 
hotel.  At  the  supper  table,  he  heard  remarks  about  a  case 
which  was  to  be  tried  on  the  day  following,  which  involved 
a  very  large  amount  of  property,  claimed  by  Louis  Norman 
in  right  of  his  father,  and  that  the  young  lawyer,  was  to 
manage  his  own  case. 

Mr.  Norman  would  not  agitate  the  mind  of  his  son,  at  a 
time  when  he  needed  the  full  possession  of 'all  his  faculties ; 
he  resolved  to  mix  among  the  crowd,  and  keeping  himself 
unknown,  behold  his  son  as  a  public  speaker.  The  out- 
rage upon  the  feelings  of  Louis  perpetrated  by  the  defend- 
ant's counsel,  in  calling  up  his  father's  misdeeds,  had  har- 
rowed up  the  feelings  of  that  father,  almost  beyond  endu- 
rance ;  but  he  said  to  himself,  "  this  is  a  part  of  my  punish- 
ment. I  will  bear  it  meekly,  but  it  is  hard  that  the  innocent 
eon  must  suffer  for  the  father's  sake." 

Scarcely  had  Mr.  Norman  dared  to  scan  the  feature  of  his 
son,  fearing  he  might  recognise  him  among  the  crowd  ; 
but  as  he  saw  Louis  engrossed  by  his  papers,  and  paying 
no  attention  to  any  thing  but  the  business  before  him,  he 
allowed  himself  in  a  full  survey  of  his  person.  It  was  not 
the  symmetry  and  commanding  grace  of  his  form,  nor  the 
manly  beauty  of  his  features,  that  swelled  the  father's  heart 
with  a  full  tide  of  joy,  as  he  gazed  upon  his  son;  but  it  was 


260  IDA    KORMAN. 

the  expression  of  an  uncorrupt  mind,  the  pure  and  holy  light 
of  virtue  beaming  from  his  open  countenance  that  was 
read  by  that  father,  who  had  studied  the  dark  pages  of 
human  nature,  and  understood  but  too  well,  the  indica- 
tions of  evil  passions  enstamped  upon  the  brow;  it  was 
that  innocence,  purity,  and  elevation  of  mind  so  manifest 
in  his  son,  which  delighted  Mr.  Norman,  and  made  him  feel, 
that  though  his  own  life  had  been  wasted,  and  his  best 
faculties  perverted,  in  that  son  he  lived,  an  example  of  a 
better  nature ; — and,  "  Oh  may  he  never  become  debased 
by  the  world's  influence !"  was  the  prayer  which  ascended 
from  the  father's  heart. 

•  It  seemed,  indeed,  as  Mr.  Norman  felt,  that  taunted  and 
insulted  by  his  opponent,  Louis  would  not  be  able  to  keep 
his  temper.  If  thrown  off  his  guard  by  passion,  he  might 
forget  the  main  points  of  his  case,  and  thus  the  designs  of 
his  adversary  would  be  completely  answered.  But  Mr. 
Norman  saw  with  satisfaction,  that  Louis  remained  un- 
moved ;  and  he  was  sure,  from  his  looks,  even  before  he 
commenced  speaking,  that  he  would  keep  his  feelings 
under  control :  his  very  countenance  bespoke  self-command 
and  self-possession,  and  inspired  confidence  in  his  power 
over  himself. 

And  the  hopes  of  his  father  were  more  than  realized, 
when  he  heard  Louis  commence,  calmly  and  without  any 
perceptible  agitation,  to  state  the  legal  bearings  of  the  case, 
which  he  scanned  with  clearness,  and  exhibited  with  force, 
without  encumbering  them  with  aught  irrelevant,  or  of  a 
nature  to  divide,  or  distract  the  attention.  The  feelings  of 
the  father  were,  for  a  time,  suspended ; — and  as  one  lawyer 
judges  another,  he  weighed  the  arguments  of  Louis,  and 
smiled  approvingly,  forgetful  that  he  had  an  interest  in  the 
case,  or  bore  a  relation  to  the  speaker. 

But  when  satisfied  that  his  case  was  safe  in  the  hands  of 
justice,  Louis   allowed   himself    to   enter   the  domain    of 


IDA   NORMAN.  261 

feeling,  and  reply  to  the  attack  upon  his  father  and  himself, 
that  father  saw  how  deep,  how  impassioned,  and  how  lofty 
were  his  feelings;  that  his  eloquence  was  unanswerable, 
for  it  was  the  eloquence  of  virtue.  "  1  was  called  eloquent," 
thought  he,  "but  my  speeches  were  made  of  fine  words; 
this  is  the  language  of  the  soul!" 

After  the  recognition  of  his  father  by  Louis,  and  the 
excitement  of  their  meeting  had  in  some  degree  passed 
away,  Louis  beckoned  to  Mr.  Ashburn  who  stood  wiping 
his  eyes  with  his  spectacles  in  his  hand,  and  presenting 
him,  said,  "my  father,  your  friend  has  been  the  protector 
of  your  son,  the  guide  and  counsellor  to  whom  he  owes 
every  thing,  suffer  me  still  to  call  him,  father." 

Mr.  Norman  pressed  the  hand  of  Mr.  Ashburn,  and  for  a 
moment,  both  were  silent. 

William  Landon,  who  had  been  prevented  by  important 
business,  from  being  present  until  near  the  close  of  Louis' 
speech,  and  had  not  observed  Mr.  Norman  until  his 
interview  with  Louis,  now  came  forward,  and  warmly 
greeted  him,  congratulating  him  on  his  quick  passage,  (the 
ship  having  arrived  some  days  sooner  than  was  expected.) 

Mr.  Norman  then  explained  the  circumstances  which  had 
led  him  to  go  to  a  hotel;  and  to  enter  the  court  room  on 
that  occasion,  without  announcing  himself  to  his  son. 

After  speaking  aside  to  Messrs.  Ashburn  and  Landon, 
Louis,  said  "  you  will  now,  my  dear  father,  put  yourself 
under  my  guidance,  and  go  home  with  me." 

"You  reside  with  Mr.  Ashburn,  my  son,"  replied  Mr. 
Norman,  somewhat  embarrassed. 

"  Not  at  present,  my  father ;  my  sister  and  I  have  lately 
commenced  house-keeping,  that  we  might  have  a  home  for 
you." 

Mr.  Norman  felt  the  delicacy  of  this  arrangement,  but 
was  too  full  for  utterance. 

"And  our  kind  friends  will  go  home  and  dine  with  us," 


262  IDA    NORMAN. 

said  Louis, — "but,  my  father,  we  must  not,  too  suddenly, 
announce  to  Ida,  the  news  of  your  arrival.  Mr.  Landon  will 
go  first,  and  prepare  her  to  see  you." 

Landon  did  not  object  to  this  arrangement,  but  imme- 
diately drove  to  the  Norman  residence,  where  Ida  and  Laura 
were  anxiously  Availing  to  hear  the  result  of  the  law  suit. 
Mr.  Landon  entered  the  parlor  in  high  spirits;  and  the  ladies 
were  soon  gratified  with  the  intelligence  that  Louis  had 
done  himself  much  honor  in  his  speech,  and  had  gained  his 
cause. 

"  He  has  invited  me  here  to  dine,"  said  Landon,  "  but," 
in  a  lower  tone,  to  Ida,  "I  have  no  assurance  that  I  shall 
be  a  welcome  guest." 

There  was  something  touching,  almost  expressive  of 
humility  in  the  tones  of  his  voice ;  and  Idaj  conscious  of 
the  injustice  of  feeling  aught  but  kindness  for  one,  always 
their  devoted  friend,  and  that  his  supposed  attachment  to 
Julia  Selby,  was  no  cause  of  offence  to  her,  offered  her  hand, 
saying,  "  indeed,  Mr.  Landon,  there  is  no  one  entitled  to  a 
warmer  welcome  to  this  house  than  yourself." 

Though  the  manner  was  friendly,  Landon  thought  it 
far  from  tender;  so  different  was  it  from  Julia  Selby 's 
empressement  in  giving  her  invitations. 

"Tour  brother,  Miss  Norman"  said  he,  will  soon  be 
here,  accompanied  by  Judge  Ashburn,  and  another  gentle- 
man, a  stranger!" 

"Who,  who?"  exclaimed  Ida,  "can  it  be  that  my  father 
has  arrived  ?  oh,  would  that  it  were  so !" 

"Could  you  command  yourself  Miss  Norman,  to  meet 
your  father  should  he  now  come  ?" 

"I  am  accustomed  to  self-command,  Mr.  Landon,"  said 
Ida,  with  emphasis,  "  but  do  not  trifle  with  my  suspense,  it 
is  unkind." 

"Yes,  Miss  Norman,  your  father  has  arrived,  and  lam 
every  moment  expecting  the  carriage  which  will  bring  him 
here." 


IDA    NORMAN.  263 

Ida  Norman  neither  screamed  nor  fainted; — she  clasped 
her  hands,  and  with  eyes  upraised,  offered  her  silent  thanks- 
giving to  Him  whom  she  acknowledged  as  the  author  of 
all  human  happiness. 

A  carriage  was  heard  at  the  door — a  moment  passed,  and 
Ida  Norman  was  in  the  arms  of  her  father.  Louis  wept 
tears  of  joy.  Judge  Ashburn  and  Mr.  Landon  were  deeply 
affected  at  the  scene. 

It  was  now  late  in  autumn,  and  the  glowing  anthracite 
radiated  from  the  grate  an  agreeable  warmth.  Mr.  Norman's 
eye  glanced  over  the  apartment;  in  the  agitation  of  his 
feelings,  he  had  not  observed  as  he  entered  the  house,  that 
it  was  his  former  dwelling; — the  truth  now  flashed  upon 
his  mind,  and  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  he  wept 
aloud.  But  pleasing  were  the  tears  called  forth  by  filial  ten- 
derness and  love ;  for  he  fully  comprehended  the  efforts  made 
by  his  children  to  receive  him,  in  the  manner,  of  all  others, 
most  desirable.  But  how,  in  their  penury  and  destitution, 
they  could  have  found  means  to  do  all  this,  was  to  him  a 
mystery ;  that  these  means  were  honest  and  honorable,  he 
could  not  for  a  moment  doubt,  and  he  fervently  thanked 
God  for  the  unmerited  blessings  showered  upon  him. 

Ida,  gently  approaching,  and  taking  his  hand,  said,  "my 
dearest  father,  you  need  repose  after  so  much  fatigue  and 
excitement,  let  me  conduct  you  to  your  own  chamber,  that 
you  may  refresh  yourself  with  some  rest  before  the  hour 
for  dinner.  The  father,  regarding  his  daughter  tenderly, 
rose  and  walked  with  her  to  the  chamber  which  he  had 
formerly  occupied,  and  which  was  one  of  a  suite  of  rooms 
once  his  private  apartments,  comprising  his  dressing-room, 
library,  and  private  reception  room. 

On  entering  the  chamber,  fitted  up  with  every  comfort, 
Ida  tenderly  said,  "The  time,  my  dear  father,  has  been 
short  for  what  we  wished  to  do,  so  that  1  have  not  accom- 
plished all  that  I  desired  in  the  way  of  furnishing  the  house; 
and  besides,  we  did  not  know  how  the  J-»w  suit  would  termi- 


264  IDA    NORMAN. 

nate,  and  I  have  been  careful  about  expense;  for  though  the 
generosity  of  Louis  is  unbounded,  I  was  unwilling  he 
should  incur  any  debts ; — but  now,  dear  father,  I  shall 
be  able  to  get  every  thing  for  you,  just  as  you  used  to  have. 
Here,  in  this  wardrobe  is  a  dressing-gown  for  you,  and 
some  slippers  of  my  own  work ;  and  in  this  bureau  is 
some  linen  I  have  had  made,  thinking  when  you  arrived, 
you  might  need  a  new  supply;  and  if  you  need  any  thing 
else  before  your  trunks  come,  Louis'  wardrobe  will  supply 
your  wants,  for  he  is  fully  of  your  size.  And  now  dear 
father,  I  will  leave  you  to  repose  in  this  nice,  comfort- 
able bed — you  must  compose  your  mind,  and  not  even  think 
of  the  blessings  which  are  reserved  for  you  after  so  much 
suffering ;" — then  with  a  daughter's  pure  affection,  she 
kissed  her  father,  saying,  "  I  must  now  go  and  see  to  my 
dinner;  I  fear  the  cook  may  not  be  prepared  for  company." 

"'Better'  my  sweet  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Norman,  "is  'a 
dinner  of  herbs  where  love  is,  than  the  stalled  ox,  and  hatred 
therewith.'  I  would  not  detain  you  from  your  household 
duties ;  but  let  me  look  upon  you  once  more  : — and  this  is 
indeed  my  own  little  Ida,  a  woman,  so  perfect  in  form  and 
feature ;  the  little  child  who  once  climbed  upon  my  knees, 
the  petted  and  passionate  girl  who  could  bear  no  control, 
now  a  ministering  angel,  sacrificing  herself  for  the  hap- 
piness of  others. — And  yet  with  all  the  change,  I  see  you  are 
my  child;  the  bud,  despite  of  neglect,  has  expanded  into  the 
full  developed  blossom,  but  oh  !  how  many  chilling  blasts, 
and  blighting  frosts  must  have  fallen  upon  it!" 

"But  now,  my  dear  father,  as  the  sun  shines  genially,  we 
should  be  the  more  happy  in  our  gratitude,  for  the  contrast 
of  the  present,  with  the  past.  God,  who  chasteneth  in 
mercy,  has  over-ruled  our  trials  for  good ;  they  have  ren- 
dered us  a  united,  and  a  Christian  family." 

"  My  sweet  daughter  has  then  learned  the  most  important 
of  all  lessons,  to  refer  both  trials  and  blessings  to  the 
agency  of  an  over-ruling  Providence." 


IDA    NORMAN.  265 

"  I  have  been  trained  in  my  Christian  duties,"  said  Ida, 
"  by  dear  Mrs.  Newton;  and  I  can  never  be  too  grateful  to 
my  father  for  securing  to  me  such  a  guide  and  friend." 

"  Go  now  Ida,"  said  her  father,  "  and  remember  that  in 
fulfilling  your  domestic  duties,  you  are  acting  that  part 
which  by  divine  wisdom  is  allotted  to  woman ;  and  though, 

'  To  tread  the  same  dull  circle  round  and  round,' 

may  be  wearisome  and  distasteful,  yet  considered  in  the 
light  of  duty,  things  in  themselves  trifling,  become  invested 
with  dignity  and  importance." 

As  Ida  advanced  towards  the  door,  still  looking  at  her 
father,  delighted  with  the  calm  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance, and  happy  to  listen  to  a  father's  counsels,  he  again 
spoke; 

u  One  word  more,  my  daughter; — we  owe  our  re-union  to 
your  friend,  Mr.  Landon ;  may  I  ask  you,  my  child,  whether 
there  is  a  tenderer  tie  existing  between  him  and  you,  than 
that  of  friendship  r" 

Unconsciously,  Mr.  Norman  had  touched  the  only  jarring 
chord  in  the  mind  of  Ida;  the  trial  was  great,  but  it  was 
met  with  firmness  and  self-possession. 

"Mr.  Landon,"  said  she,  "is  entitled  to  our  warmest 
gratitude.  His  charming  sister  is  betrothed  to  Louis,  you 
will  find  in  her  all  that  you  could  desire  in  a  daughter." 

u  But  the  brother,  Ida — I  have  thought  from  the  manner 
in  which  he  has  named  you,  that  there  might  " 

"  No,  my  dear  father,"  interrupted  Ida,  "  there  is  nothing, 
there  can  be  nothing,  but  friendship  between  Mr.  Landon 
and  myself;  he  is  attached  to  my  friend,  Miss  Selby,  she  is 
very  intelligent  and  accomplished,  and  moreover  has  a 
fortune." 

Ida  left  the  room;  and  Mr.  Norman  having  seen  deeper 
into  her  heart  than  she  desired,  sighed  to  think  that  sorrow 
must  ever  be  infused  in  the  cup  of  earthly  felicity. 
23 


266  IDA   NORMAN. 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

FEMALE  EDUCATION  APPLIED  TO  PRACTICAL  PURPOSES. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Norman  had  somewhat  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  his  voyage,  the  agitation  of  meeting  with  his 
children,  and  the  embarrassment  of  his  position,  he  com- 
menced a  thorough  investigation  of  his  affairs. 

He  first  examined  his  accounts  with  the  government, 
resolving  to  make  the  "  crooked  straight,"  and  to  clear  up 
every  thing  that  was  dark  or  doubtful,  in  all  his  business  of 
a  public,  or  private  nature.  If  he  found  in  some  cases  that 
he  had  slipped  over  monies  received  without  accounting  for 
them,  he  discovered  that  he  had  in  other  cases  neglected  to 
make  the  proper  charges.  Such  had  been  the  chaos  into 
which  his  business  afiairs  had  fallen,  that  deep  and  intricate 
search,  and  long  and  laborious  investigation  were  necessary 
to  bring  order  out  of  confusion. 

The  practical  education  of  his  daughter  proved  to  him 
of  great  advantage,  in  the  thought  and  labor  which  were 
necessary  in  examining  into  a  huge  mass  of  account  books, 
and  immense  piles  of  papers.  Secluding  herself  from  all 
society,  Ida  spent  days  and  nights  with  her  father,  in  searching 
into  documents,  examining  vouchers,  and  making  balances. 

The  professional  engagements  of  Louis  occupied  much  of 
his  time;  and  as  he  could  give  but  a  partial  attention  to  his 
father's  affairs,  Ida  had  begged  to  be  allowed  to  take  the 
office  of  an  assistant  upon  herself.  Patiently  did  she  toil, 
and  cheerfully  resign  the  pleasures  of  society,  to  aid  in 
disentangling  the  perplexed  web  into  which  her  father  had 
permitted  his  affairs  to  form  themselves.  Often  did  she 
soothe  his  feelings  when  accusing  himself  of  folly  and  mad- 
ness, in  suffering  his  affairs  to  fall  into  such  disorder. 


IDA    NORMAN. 

"  The  fever  of  political  excitement  was  upon  me,"  would 
he  say,  "and  I  let  all  go. — Money  I  cared  nothing  for; 
it  had  poured  in  showers  into  my  lap,  and  I  ceased  to 
regard  it,  believing  that  enough,  and  more  than  enough, 
would  always  come  at  my  call.  Without  intending  to  be 
dishonest,  I  have  appeared  so ; — the  charges  which  I  might 
lawfully  have  made  against  the  government  I  neglected  to 
make;  and  I  was  called  a  defaulter,  because  I  did  not 
account  for  what  I  received." 

"  But  my  dear  father,"  would  Ida  reply,  "  you  will  now 
be  able  to  show  how  it  has  all  happened ; — your  accounts 
can  now  be  presented  to  government  in  an  accurate  form, 
and  your  innocence  of  intentional  wrong  will  be  made 
manifest." 

"Yes  my  dear  Ida,  I  can  now,  thanks  to  your  assistance, 
settle  honorably  with  the  government,  and  relieve  my 
endorsers  of  all  responsibility ;  but  I  cannot  so  readily  set- 
tle with  my  own  conscience  for  my  recklessness.  Yet  I 
have  promised  you  not  to  dwell  upon  this  subject,  and  I 
owe  it  to  you,  my  patient  and  devoted  child,  to  think  the 
best  I  can  of  your  unworthy  father." 

In  his  daughter,  Mr.  Norman  found  a  friend  and  com- 
panion. Her  influence  over  him  was  soothing  and  salutary, 
and  in  her  society  he  found  a  happiness  to  which  he  had 
long  been  a  stranger.  Possessed  of  a  fortune  more  than 
sufficient  for  all  their  wants,  Mr.  Norman  and  his  daughter, 
were  able  to  indulge  themselves  in  the  greatest  of  luxuries, 
that  of  doing  good. 

While  Ida  Norman  was  engaged  in  assisting  her  father  in 
the  arduous  task  of  searching  into  old,  and  intricate  accounts, 
she  refused  herself  to  all  visiters,  and  William  Landon 
among  others,  which  tended  to  confirm  him  the  more  in 
the  belief  that  she  regarded  him  with  indifference. 

Perceiving  how  necessary  she  was  to  her  father's  happi- 
ness, and  the  salutary  influence  she  had  power  to  exert 
23* 


268  IDA    >  OR  MAN. 

over  his  mind,  Ida  Norman  thought  she  saw  her  future 
course  in  life  plainly  marked  out  by  the  hand  of  Provi- 
dence, and  she  determined  cheerfully  to  devote  herself  to 
those  duties  which  appeared  to  be  assigned  to  her. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

WE  must  here  leave  those  in  whom  we  have  taken  so 
deep  an  interest,  though  we  might  be  pleased  to  pursue 
them  in  their  further  progress  along  the  pathway  of  life. 
We  leave  them  with  regret,  as  we  part  with  travelling  com- 
panions in  whom  we  have  become  interested,  after  an  inti- 
macy of  a  few  days  or  hours.  But  we  separate  from  them, 
and  remain  ignorant  of  their  future  history, — we  may  some- 
times speak  of  them;  we  may  wish  we  could  know  what 
befell  them  after  we  parted — whether  that  young  gentleman 
married  the  lady  to  whom  he  seemed  attached,  or  whether 
journeying  on  in  single  blessedness,  she  preferred  to  devote 
herself  to  a  life  of  usefulness,  unincumbered  with  domestic 
ties.  If  a  Christian,  she  would  seek  to  follow  in  that  path 
pointed  out  to  her  by  the  finger  of  God. 

Whether  Ida  Norman  and  William  Landon,  in  the  course 
of  time,  learned  the  secrets  of  each  other's  hearts;  and 
whether,  if  so,  she  became  convinced  that,  as  a  wife,  she 
might  be  also  an  affectionate  daughter,  must  be  left  to  the 
discretion  and  imagination  of  our  readers. 

In  justice  to  the  character  of  Julia  Seiby,  we  should 
mention  that,  becoming  disgusted  with  the  emptiness  and 
frivolity  of  a  life  of  fashion,  and  dissatisfied  with  the  man- 


IDA   NORMAN. 

ner  in  which  she  was  wasting  her  time  and  talents,  she  was 
led  to  serious  reflection,  and  self-condemnation.  She  saw 
how  unworthily  she  had  acted  in  many  cases;  especially  in 
attempting'  chiefly  for  the  gratification  of  vanity  to  rival 
her  two  best  friends.  She  saw  that  she  had  been  justly 
punished  in  the  defeat  of  her  plans,  and  in  seeing  a  prefer- 
ence given  to  others  of  less  pretension  than  herself,  but,  as 
she  mentally  acknowledged,  of  more  worth. 

Younger  candidates  for  admiration  appeared  on  the  thea- 
tre where  Julia  Selby  had  been  once  triumphant;  and  she 
saw  that  she  was  regarded  by  them,  and  those  who  followed 
in  their  train  as,  en  pen  passe.  Mr.  Selby,  who  had  been 
scarcely  less  disappointed  than  his  daughter,  that  the  junior 
partner  did  not  propose,  had  often  delicately  hinted  to 
Julia  that  she  was  of  an  age  to  marry.  He  at  length 
announced  to  his  daughter  that  he  was  about  to  bring  home 
as  a  bride,  the  accomplished  Miss  Blossom,  her  former 
school  companion. 

This  event  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was  unpleasant  to 
Julia.  After  mature  deliberation,  she  resorted  to  her  friend, 
Mrs.  Newton,  and  opening  the  secret  wounds  of  her  heart, 
sought  for  advice. 

"  I  am  restless  and  unhappy,"  exclaimed  Julia,  "  my  life 
passes  without  any  worthy  object!  Once,  I  enjoyed  books, 
and  in  the  cultivation  of  my  mind,  could  h'nd  pleasure ;  but 
my  literary  taste  has  been  destroyed  by  the  sickening  whirl 
of  gayety  to  which  I  have  yielded  myself  a  victim ; — a 
martyr  in  an  ignoble  cause." 

"Come  back  to  me,  Julia,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  "and  in 
the  scenes  of  your  childhood  and  early  youth,  engage  in 
occupations  which  will  improve  your  mind  and  elevate  your 
character." 

Julia's  heart  responded  to  this  suggestion :  it  was  what 
she  had  before  thought  of,  but  had  feared  she  had  too  far 
lost  the  esteem  of  Mrs.  Newton  to  be  a  welcome  inmate  of 


270  II>A    NORMAN. 

her  household.  She  returned  home  much  happier  than  she 
left;  and  surprised  rather  than  displeased  her  father,  by  the 
announcement  that  she  had  resolved  with  his  permission, 
as  soon  as  the  new  Mrs.  Selby  should  arrive,  to  go  to 
reside  with  Mrs.  Newton  at  Science  Hall. 

It  was  a  nine  days  wonder,  among  the  gay  circle  in  which 
Julia  had  moved,  that  a  belle  and  an  heiress  should  with- 
draw from  the  world  of  fashion  to  live  in  a  school.  Julia, 
herself,  knew  the  trials  and  mortifications,  which,  in  the 
midst  of  her  triumphs  she  had  experienced ;  and  that  in  the 
career  of  pleasure  she  had  found  far  more  thorns  than 
flowers.  She  had  seen  that  the  idols  of  fashion  remain  in 
their  shrines  but  for  a  brief  space ;  and  had  proved  how 
unsatisfactory  is  the  incense  offered  by  their  votaries.  Julia 
Selby's  trials  had  now  come ;  and  by  God's  blessing,  they 
helped  to  render  her  a  better  woman.  She  applied  herself 
to  literary  pursuits,  and  became  known  as  a  writer,  not  of 
vitiating  novels  or  vapid  poetry,  but  of  useful  and  instructive 
books ;  some  of  which  she  wrote  more  particularly,  for  the 
benefit  of  a  large  family  of  younger  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  of  numerous  nephews  and  nieces,  by  all  of  whom, 
"  Sister  Julia,"  and  "  Aunt  Julia"  was  honoured  and  be- 
loved. And  though  her  young  step-mother  was  too  gay 
and  giddy  to  profit  much  by  advice,  Julia  was  persevering 
in  her  kind  efforts  to  promote  the  welfare  of  her  fathers' 
family,  too  often  neglected  by  its  thoughtless  mistress. 
Piety,  added  to  the  charms  of  Julia's  mind,  rendered  her  what 
her  friend,  Mrs.  Newton,  had  so  anxiously  desired  to  see. 

Frank  Selby,  finding  Ida  Norman  gave  no  encouragement 
to  his  suit,  and  Laura  Landon  was  engaged,  concluded  that 
Emma  Van  Renselaer  would  make  an  interesting  "Mrs. 
Frank  Selby,"  in  which  opinion  he  was  not  disappointed. 
In  process  of  time  he  became  a  man  of  business,  and  a 
member  of  the  firm  of  "Landon  &.  Selby."  His  former 
jokes  about  the  junior  partner  were  occasionally  alluded  to, 


IDA    NORMAN.  271 

and  he  continued  to  style  Landon  his  Mentor,  attributing 
chiefly  to  his  example  and  influence,  the  beneficial  change 
which  had  been  effected  in  his  character. 


As  Mrs.  Louis  Norman,  on  a  winter's  evening,  was  sitting 
by  the  centre-table  in  a  private  parlor  in  Washington,  her 
husband  near  her  looking  into  the  New  York  evening 
papers,  she  was  surprised  by  his  falling  into  a  sudden  fit  of 
laughter.  "Do  let  me  enjoy  this  mirth  with  you,  Louis," 
said  the  lady.  Louis  took  up  the  paper,  and  again  laughed. 
"Yes,"  said  he,  "retributive  justice  has  at  length  found 
them  out,  and  they  will  punish  each  other  in  this  world,  for 
the  sins  they  have  committed  against  you  and  me,  Laura. 
But  I  will  not  keep  you  longer  in  suspense ;  '  if  you  have 
tears,  prepare  to  shed  them  now,' — 'Married  in  this  city, 

on  ,  by  the   Rev.   Mr.   Cheathem,  Mr.  Perseverance 

Fox,  to  Miss  Maria  Crump.' " 

After  all  that  Louis  Norman  had  said  about  "  office  seek- 
ing" and  "political  ambition,"  it  may  appear  inconsistent, 
that  he  should  have  been  at  Washington,  as  a  representative 
in  Congress;  but  this  may  be  explained  by  a  remark  of 
Judge  Ashburn,  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Newton's  exclamation  of 
surprise,  on  hearing  of  Louis'  election;  "My  dear  madam, 
he  did  not  seek  the  office,  but  the  office  has  sought  him.  I 
foretold  when  he  was  a  child,  that  he  would  be  a  great  man, 
and  my  prophecy  is  fulfilled — not  in  his  being  elected  to 
Congress,  for  many  small  men  obtain  this  office ;  but  his 
greatness  consists  in  his  moral  integrity  and  his  desire  to  do 
his  duty.  No  citizen  has  a  right  to  refuse  to  act,  when  his 
country  demands  his  services.  Like  the  Roman  Cincinnatus, 
and  our  own  Washington,  Louis  has  been  called  for  by  the 
public  voice,  and  greatly  to  the  sacrifice  of  his  pecuniary 
prospects  and  home  enjoyments,  he  obeys  the  mandate  in  a 
spirit  of  true  patriotism,  unpledged  to  any  party,  and  free  to 
act  for  the  best  interests  of  his  country." 


272  IDA    NORMAN. 

We  leave  Ida  Norman,  ministering  to  the  happiness  of 
her  father  in  his  declining  years,  conducting  household 
affairs,  and  doing  good  to  all  within  the  sphere  of  her  in- 
fluence. We  have  seen  her  overcome  the  strong  and  turbu- 
lent passions  which  were  inherent  in  her  nature,  and  acting 
with  calmness  and  self-possession  when  the  tender  feelings 
of  her  heart  were  tried  to  the  utmost;  we  have  seen  her 
give  up  society,  and  confine  herself  to  the  severest  mental 
labor  at  the  call  of  duty ;  and  all  this  she  did  cheerfully, 
not  as  a  heroine,  but  as  a  Christian;  none  knowing  her 
struggles,  but  He  who  seeth  the  secret  recesses  of  the  heart. 

Farewell,  sweet  Ida  Norman !  With  thy  father,  we  would 
say,  " '  Many  daughters  have  done  virtuously,  but  thou  ex- 
cellest  them  all.'"  We  part  with  thee,  assured  that  in 
whatever  situation  thou  mayest  hereafter  be  placed,  thou 
wilt  perform  its  duties,  as  might  be  expected  of  an  educated, 
enlightened,  and  Christian  woman. 


THE     END, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


•»' 


NOV191986 


1987 


Form  L9-Series  444 


A    000038193    9 


Rill 


